Uncommon gestures and embroiled accidents,

Suggestions and half truths,

The rush to be home before dark,

Anything you don’t do yourself

Is hard to handle.


The fiction of our lives resembles dreams,

The importance of fighting for miracles.

There’s a lunatic pride in accepting that

It all starts with nothing but experience,

And for some,

A rich imagination.


Nothing?


Except being

Encumbered by crashing waves of

Chaos,

Conflict, 

Desires.


It doesn’t make any difference.

Shoulder the belief that 

when you escape your past

You’re not about to return voluntarily.

You’re not who you think you are.


Realize the number of imponderables in life.

And,

If nothing else,

Start with the glory of a summer evening by the ocean.