Tangled Tango

To drop all perceptions 

mind and body 

and soul 

has attached itself to--

to dare to be open, to be challenged. Here: 

to let strange hands in 

to tangle up the heart chords, and 

the axons running electric in my mind. 

Alter everything, be engaged--listen, 

watch, talk, be honest. Walk a bit--

just around the corner, even. 

Love is to be tangled 

and open, interwoven, or 

wires out and sparks flying from chest cavities. Yes, 

almost automatic, almost robotic, but 

necessary and true: coming 

and going and ebbing and flowing. 

The motions of people walking by, all 

breathing, beating, being--tangle up in em. 

I try. 

I try hard--

tangled up in everything. 

Again: 

I try. 

See pain, know pain, but touch pain, too. 

Sympathy or empathy, depends on perception, those two do. 

All things move toward goodness. Here we are: 

human. So guarded, why? 

In triumph, I danced around the fire 

and got so drunk and had a story to tell, but 

during trials I learned to love and trust. 

All of us are a trial 

unto each other, yes--

don't be gentle, no, and 

don't be reckless, no, but 

be honest, open, tangled. 

I try. 

I try hard to think about these things. 

It's hard. 

I want happiness. 

I want it.

While walking down the street, 

I shook my ass and spun around to the beat, and 

while I spun I saw an older lady laugh. I stopped 

and laughed, having noticed her notice me. So 

I spun around again, bowed, and waved, and 

saw her laugh some more. 

I said hello and she said I made her night. 

She made mine. Funny how lessons are learned.