An Exit

baby, this is wise man's dream with a fool's execution. but your silence is deafening, friend and i gotta tell you somehow. this isn't so much a poem as a lyrical scream. these days, we're as close as gaza and jerusalem. like we could send carrier pigeons, but we're in the middle of peace talks. and ariel sharon just walked in drunk and with a posse. other days we are as far apart as the sea is from the sky. and im not sayin i wanna be you, but maybe we could be blue and fluid together and sometimes overlap. and if we really are as far as the East is from the West, then we can teach columbusmagellanericthered that those flow together too, and the italians really got pasta from the chinese. right now, though, i gotta space us out like penmanship lessons in the first grade when everyone made all those gigantic Ms and Ss all squiggly and tongues-stuck-out-eraser-chewing CONCENTRATE. like top-of-a-giant-sequoia spacing like everything i knew about me and you and home gotta get radically disfigured. cultural revolution style. gotta main the memories, smash the family china and move forward in those great leaps. but after all the dishes breaking (and believe me that's gonna feel good), im still gonna believe you meant every word. because i felt it in my deep place exactly where you feel sunrise & sunset & breaking & healing and where the HALLEUJAHs and AMENs come from. but as deafening as your silence is, i refuse to sacrifice you my inner ear.