along for the ride

to feel, words are all spare parts.

to think, feel is wetness after the rain.

to me, these mediums are strange 

to each other,

watercolors with stick brushes

or legos that suddenly spontaneously melt.

it's either a dance card 

left at the table of thought

or overfeeding the fish that whimsy my day.

in a perfect storm,

the garden gets nourished 

and I am clean and dry,

but that doesn't happen very much.

instead, cooked meals that are eaten cold

and taste great and feel warm inside me.

a shopping list forgotten

but mingling with people is a substitute.

driving in slowed down traffic

so that daydreaming become 

the moment of truth.

times when the elevator stops

but I am floating along and the door opens.

or when I am in a discussion with someone

and yet their presence is saying more.

strangely, I can be cleaning my hands

with a sense of urgency

and the giving hand of intention

gives way to the receiving hand's feel 

for the touch.

there can be a situation 

where I am almost is tears

and my mind jumps up with solutions unasked for.

I can be in full laughter

and my feeling self is asking for more air.

I can be full on crying, almost sobbing

and my mind is all questions 

about the worth of it,

trying for rational overrule as a brainwash.

they are like two kids riding together 

in a small red wagon

but not wanting to go to the same place,

ever!

my life is all about elasticity,

lather and scrub,

swim, float and breathe.

no two moments are alike.

well, they are somehow learning 

the likes of each other

and I am the wagon

while they are along for the ride . . .