XXII

The ground is littered with grime and vice,
and I’ve never felt so fresh.

I dance my way through the streets,
all the way to the other side of millennium.
Carried on the night’s breath—my feet barely brushing.

I can see through their eyes,
soft, and wide as pomegranates,
split open in gaudium.

There is wonder in all their faces.
Boundless joy.
And I know what I have.
I am rich.

I see them all.
Each, in turn,
for only a piece of a moment,
but it is pure.
And it feels like coming home
on a warm night to golden lights—
laughter from the kitchen floor.

I can taste the new world,
base notes rising to top,
effusive, magnetic.
I cannot even be made to feel sorry this time.

The air is sweet.
Is this what it feels like
to breathe deep?
To be light on your feet?
Can it be all right?
Don’t close too tight.
It will take flight.
Just hold it light.

I love everyone tonight.

If you were here
you would recognize me,
and I would need nothing more.

Wherever you are,
thank you
for reminding me
how to move like this.

We are rich.