I always believed I was this uncool thing …
A puffy purple coat on the first day of Spring.
It was a year spent in parks and in theaters,
Faces walking small dogs on and off a screen.
Slow as it seemed, I found my way back,
leaving my puffy, purple self back on that rack.
Traded shelter for skin to feel the wind
as it gave me the home I found myself in.
And there was love where it had been all along:
In the tempo and rhyme of a lyric-less song
that surrounded me further and further gone,
until a path I only saw my heroes go down
became the path I found my heroic self on.
So was my winter as it passed with a wave
and a thawing puddle soaking for days.
I am the screen and the projection it holds-
Blurred at the edges and romantically old.
The journey of mornings made up of words,
and I will see each for better and worse,
knowing that ends are tied up at starts-
holding my sweater, still with room in my heart.