The Blue Book

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

My god, I feel
the weight of life on nights like these
where crickets chirp at passing cars
and friends gather by the pool
to speak the poetry of ordinary life.

No fancy words,
just barefoot lines
and the grass beneath my feet
as in a dream I had long ago,
a life spent in love with everyday things
and what is unremarkable.

Let others speak of magic and meaning,
of a time when we will live in imagination.
I seek the untold possibilities of limitation;
the feeling of being nothing special.

And yet, look! here,
at the underside of skin.

Cells which have within
a blueness like midday
and that single, quiet grin I saw
in lifetimes long ago;
the smile of a friend
who knows what it is, who knows
the wonders of being bound
to a heartbeat, who hears
such ordinary sounds
and does not speak
of god or ancient prophets,
but grabs my hand,
for one sweet moment,
and closes the space between.


It’s a classic, after all