On the way to the grocery store
this morning, I fell in love.
It wasn’t the marrying kind of love,
or even the fucking kind of love.
It was the kind of love whose shadow
stays with you for the rest of your life.
The kind of love that poems are made of.
The kind of love that takes the kind
of courage you don’t have.
The kind of love that makes you skip
a step but keep walking.
The kind of love that, once you buy
a pint of milk and a loaf of bread,
makes you treat yourself to some
Her Two Cents
Bison Jack (Savannah) and mindgallery (Brooklyn) have been posting poetry on the MC for years, and I’ve saved many of their poems during their brief appearances online. However, this is the first time one writer’s poem reminded me of work by the other. I discovered “Breathing Like a Spaceman” back in 2010, and it’s re-appeared with slight edits under other titles, but it still remains one of my favorites. I don’t typically place two poems in one post but in this instance, both complement each other in such a lovely way. Step into the sunlight, laugh, and enjoy some fancy orange marmalade. It’s summer, still.
Breathing Like a Spaceman
I walked out at my stop on the f train this morning
and saw him playing his plastic keyboard
filling the station with a soundtrack for
the new day
as I climbed the stairs, I heard him say
I hope you fall
and as I stepped into the sunlight
I realized I was laughing
and I was