You got burnt to the ground sitting on a curb outside of an educational supplies store.
On a Tuesday.
Between his evening shift and weekly excursion for discounted beers at the corner bar with the guys.
The scene felt reminiscent of the summer you sat on the sidewalk falling in love with each other’s words til 4 in the morning.
Sting. Burn.
You see,
the elaborate surprise birthday parties
candlelit dinners prepared
and hidden notes on bicycle spokes
no longer compared to the prospect of brief international travel and French pussy.
Matches lit to the tone of
“I can’t explain but you’re just not enough anymore”
Hissed from a tongue you once knew like your own.
Spark
Flame
Fire ablaze
You fell apart.
Amorphous ash.
And like the phoenix, was forced to slowly collect your charred carbon chemistry
And reassemble it into plumage, or a forced smile
“I’m really doing fine… considering”
Mythology misled us
The resurrection of the phoenix is not a one-time event
but rather you rebuild yourself again every day.
Some days with a wingspan malformed and misshapen
But we build ourselves again
And it is this process by which we are superhuman
By which we are magic
We are vulnerable
We are resilient
We are stupid enough to love again
We are New Orleans
We are Haiti
We are Japanese island cities in the center of Tsunamis
We are Hiroshima
Vietman
We are ephemeral springs, and volcanic lavas
We are Ralph Nader and we just keep running for election through the GREEN PARTY
We are impossibly naïve and skeptical
But we rebuild
And sometimes this process occurs in the form of crying for six days
And sometimes it occurs in the form of putting your mouth on every man and gin & tonic in town
And that’s ok
Because the fires are
Are inevitable and unavoidable
But like the forest
We return more lush,
More diverse
and more beautiful each time we burn.
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