lets stay awake all night and think things through

people talk too much, they drink too much, i think way way too much. its night time on some bus in some city on some street and i just start picking random stops to get off at and see if i can find my way home in this urban jungle. my attempts at survival and i find myself breathless, holding a pocket knife in a pocket with holes, silk lined and hand knit gloves you gave me the winter we were 19. that winter. the way things suspended in air and silent evenings blanketed with black and grey night. wed sit on the edge of everything, legs dangling over and speak spiderwebbed hand motions. nothing ever made sense then and all the things that kept us up at night are what gets me to sleep now. the things i worried about relentlessly have fallen into place and i am secure. i know, i know i know where you are and what youre doing. and not in a worried way. in a loving and careful way. i carry your heart with me, i carry you in my heart.
its hard to see anything on bayshore with the lights of oncoming cars blinding the middles of my eyes and making the sky between the overpass full of polka dots and tiny circles. i come home and make you muffins. tea. we smoke cigarettes on the back porch and talk about politics, talk about colder winters, talk about where we grew up, our moms, talk about what our favorite words are, what we want most in the world and it all seems relevant on this wednesday where in school i read books about famous artists to my students and we listen to mozart, listen to bon jovi, listen to the cure and write poetry, i tell them, fill the page, write whatever you want, there is no form, this is not a grade, put it all down, dont stop to think, we are wearing berets and im dressed all in black, sunglasses and a coffee mug because the shades are up and sun is pouring in. we put on shows in our classroom, turn my desk into a stage, get on the tables and yell our poems as loud as we can. by the end of class we are exhausted, our mini reading and i applaud them all with a bow. i say, take off your hats, turn down that song, we dont need these gimicks and so i take off my glasses and say, write a poem now, write without any inspiration, write without all that show, without any background noise. just write. go.
my mom sends me note cards with "its all about possibilities" written on them in her big calligraphy handwriting, black ink dripping and misspelled. i put them taped all around my room and close my eyes, trace my fingers over the glitter and raised ink, turned around in circles until all the lights go out and the whole world goes black.
im telling her on the phone, im not worried, im not worried about it at all. and tonight im not. tonight i will sleep soundly just from ten minutes of your voice. tonight is for me and my muffins and my writing and my note cards.
im not worried. im not worried. magic. poof. lights out.