No Talent For Certainty

to monetize his syllables 
he chose to denigrate, 
which then brought clicks and comments 
and a cause to celebrate -- 

and me, I couldn't blame him, as
I watched his site blow up,
for angry people need their fix 
of everything

but love

I meant to be someone else, but I
 forgot, and turned, well, into this;
 I meant to be somewhere else, but I
 got lost, and fell into this bliss

I meant to be miserable, but then
 my life got happy, seemingly,
 without my really doing much,
 overtly, or even

 secretly
 

Back then, I thought I knew about
 the joy inside - where it was kept -
 but soon, I entered into doubt,
 and trudged along, and finally slept 
 beside the waters of my fear,
 then dreaming: seeing fresh, anew
 within my reach was all it took,
 for I was really me

 with you

follow me over the motley rock, 
where the cattle sing and the bluebirds low,
follow me out past the hidden loch,
where geese and the gosling loves to go

follow me out to perspective ridge,
where we aim to go, but have rarely been;
where we see that connection is everything,
and that some, once lost, won't come back again

a bridge too near 
a n'er-do-well 
a royal flush 
a spotted tell 

a fortune lost 
a habit gained 
a too-close bridge
for the unrestrained

words that just come out a stammer, 
in an unassuming town; 
passion doesn't equal glamor, 
when the girl's more than her gown -- 

sometimes boys believe and follow, 
sometimes children see the way -- 
words and gestures can have glory,
luster shown in disarray

clapboard blue and bushes wild,
saving face and loving smile,
half a home, and home for having
present passed, and past surpassing

joy, the love of knowing something;
breathing slowly, heartbeat jumping,
hand to chest and eye to eyeball:
challenge none, but yet defy all

since he was eight years old, 
he longed to run away; 
to live another life, 
to find another way 

he got away, then, years ago, 
but has found out too late 
that running doesn't matter when 
you can't stop being

eight