First smelling Memphis, I knew it would changing.
I knew the A game would not nearly suffice.
I knew it would, like all the rest, be a move forward.
Like the rest, I searched, and drilled, and moved the earth to find
a common ground, a breath of familiarity
Instead, like all the rest, seeking in cyber spaces, I found
recycled thin air, false religions, and a reminder
that it takes an extraordinary mountain
to move me.
So I became smaller, in the literal sense.
Fifteen pounds exactly today.
I’d like to say it was shame weight, hiding weight, grief weight
the making space for some flavor of personal freedom I have acquired
in some late night epiphany, while in deep meditation
at the top of some retreat in India.
dirty lucky bluesy delta town.
it absorbed it, took it in.
turned it into a magnolia, or a guitar lick
or maybe some lovers kissing outside of Blue Monkey.
Maybe it’s just weight. The need for smaller pants.
Something gone, some insulation, some buffer.
some bad date, or some room for hope wrapped around my waist.
Maybe it’s just so I can feel the breeze
and raise my hands high in victory.
Maybe it’s enough space.
For the entrance of a kiss, and some deeper shafts of light.
Somewhere, in the rainy morning.