last night
as the front came through, after talking to a friend, sitting out, on the porch, calm winds tattering by, i felt the same as the day that my grandmother died, the day that i was serious with my grecian urn, the days when i was away from miss green, the break after south central first touched my lips. those moments i can point to and know, that i feel right, that i feel alright, that when the moon finally disappears, that truth can exist.