Friday, March 10, 2023


When we 
can't kiss, but can still 
quietly walk 

around the perimeter 
of this indescribable 
feeling and listen—

when it seems certain 
that no room is left 
in the inn

for the bigness of the 
thought we've been 
trying to hold in, 

but still, there 
are a few 
rickety windows

we can reach and fling 
open to let in 
some air—

when we can’t find words 
for the despair 
which devours us, 

and yet, it doesn't feel 
all that capricious 
to sing 

with some friends in 
a bar about 
frivolous things—

that's when 
we're finally ready 
to admit 

that there's no 
rationale, but 
it must 

stand to reason:
we can probably live 
without the touch 

of true meaning,
as long as there‘s 
the feeling.