If god exists, it would be
in the space between.
In the trying to give of oneself.
The answer is in the attempt.
Someone sharing magic
they don’t even know they’ve created.
Every internal traffic light.

There is a home in your chest.
Even when home
changes for me each moment.
In new cities, and my own.
In cars. On sidewalks.

In not thinking about
anything but love
on planes.
In Italy,
the train,
the car ride home.
499 miles above earth
I fly over temporary houses.
Will you feel it?

Because all of it has changed
and I want to be everywhere
all of the time.
Green lights saying, keep going.
Backtracking to arrive.

I keep making the wrong turns
on the streets I drive everyday.
Some days, no turns at all.
Foot on the gas.
Smiling every time I forget.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: