love you better

I love to laugh and dance around the kitchen on any given morning, singing along with a choir of voices that only I can hear…singing a gospel barber-shop quartet medley while spinning around with the elation of a man with no limbs getting high on the oxygen of his tears.

I love to laugh and play in cardboard boxes with homeless kittens on lonely manic Saturdays wishing they were Sunday when I can feel the walls breathing and my heart becomes the sun soaking up the morning dew and teaching someone inside me I never knew, who wants to love inside of you, that if you watch your tears falling, the stains they leave on the kitchen floor create a map to the center of somewhere soft that may even be heaven…but that’s only a theory and probably not true anyway.

I love to laugh and choke on my own words till there are no words left, and a herd of speed-freak elephants could put out cigarettes left over from my mother’s ashtray, in 1977, on my stomach and I would never feel anything…besides my brain bursting, wishing it had been born a heart instead…a heart that never speaks, but joins wonder-twin powers with heart number one to become the form of faith reflecting back at me, and the shape of a pond in the middle of a crazy city where we can all meet and listen to undiscovered master tapes of by-gone geniuses while submerged in a back-alley baptism.

I love to laugh, but it hurts too much…so I hold it all in like a boy who once was afraid to use the school lavatory and ran all the way home praying to a god he had yet to believe in, that he could make it through the pain and not explode on a small town American bi-centennial street where it would be revealed that our dreamer hero was nothing more than a baby boy who ate fear for breakfast years before terror shocked the American air that we thought was free to breathe.

I love to laugh…so I will…someday…but for today I will swallow the blue one and grow up and up and away flying though shards of glass that once reflected a hooded stranger that told me to swallow the red one and I would be the real me and together we would conquer the seas where the sun never sets, yet I only ended up in a dark alley curled up in a truth called delusion, hiding from the night rain…and as two hungry kittens were eating holes through me looking for their Mama, the pain overwhelmed me with a prophet’s gift as I could see the dying rain give birth to the living sun and on that very morning I took the blue one and cried tsunami tears, that sprouted wings, and gently learned to laugh again…and love you better.