Cafe in Mid-February

“To be surrounded by beautiful curious breathing laughing flesh is enough”

~Walt Whitman,
I Sing the Body Electric

There are other moments I encounter in this

one when everything moves slow

and I realize there is no difference

between drinks at the Groveland Tap and Guitar Hero
between God and drunken bike races in the snow

and I believe for half a breath

that if I bear myself in perfect honesty
if I tell my father and mother that I've done drugs and fucked
up my relationships with rash selfishness

then everything will be clear as the glass of iceless water

and maybe they won't turn in shame
maybe a hand would fall to my shoulder

and this weight of proof could be lifted
to fly from me like a flock of sparrows fleeing a bush
who just for a second
seem like they'll never stop

releasing something that continues
like the lines that are not segments
going on forever beyond where they end