URBAN MELANCHOLY

When I'm sad I long for the past, when everything seemed safe.
When I listen to trucks blowing their horns I feel safe.
When I see red lights I feel safe.
When I smell gas I feel safe.
When I listen to cars running in the distance, buses, motorcycles and horns I feel safe.
When I see light coming through the window at night I feel terribly safe.
I fear silence, darkness, stillness. I need noise to meditate. I need steps in the dark, meowing cats, some distant barking. Lamp posts that insolently intrude in the room like an obnoxiously obsessive mother make me feel safe.

TIGER

I want to live with a tiger.
I was going to say "have a tiger", but you don't "have" tigers.
Tigers have to be free and they have to choose you to live with.
Tigers are strong and they can look after you but they have to care for you.
I want to live with a tiger.
I want to open the door and get received by a huge tiger hugging me.
I want to sleep with a snoring tiger by my side.
I want to read with a tiger trying to catch my attention.
I want to find my house door torn open because the tiger stopped someone from getting in.
I want to fall asleep on top of the soft fur of the tiger.
I keep wanting to write "my tiger" and I remember I can't own one.
I can invite the tiger.
I can offer food. I can offer shelter. I can offer endless love, but if I call him "mine" he'll flee away because you don't own tigers.

I MISS BEING IN LOVE

I miss knowing as soon as I wake up that someone somewhere is thinking of me.
I miss wondering suddenly what he is doing now.
I miss wondering if he'd like this or that ice cream flavor.
I miss sleeping and being unable to dream because life is too good.
I miss smiling when listening to the ringtone of my cell
I miss paying particular attention when migraine ads appearing on TV
I miss wondering if a particular coffee would suite you fine
I miss hanging from his huge arms
I miss flying in his arms
I miss flying in his lips
I miss flying.