where i go from here

so, this is the second thing i wrote with a particular friend in mind. i was waiting for her to arrive at the Ferry Building, here in san francisco, and this is what happened during my roughly-an-hour wait. it starts with a pure intent on my friend, but ends in an abrupt and sharp turn downward. sort of like every relationship i have ever attempted to cultivate.

anyway...

where i go from here

to decide 

  what it is 

i'm looking for

 would serve me no benefit

it's not so much what for, 

  as it is where you're looking

and

  where she sleeps

   -i'm wondering-

  where she walks

   -i'm wandering-

  and when we talk

          -i stop-

the breathing

  never ceases

and the fingers want to follow

  but they can't break through the screen

(though they seem like they should reach)

 

and they can't float on air

  no matter how far i throw my voice-

while the essence of the room

  turns along with 

the ceiling fan that hums in harmony with her 

    (as she gets closer to my ear)

i go for her arms but i have to leave the speakers

 and venture outside the room i've padded with

     scratch paper to burn

  books to hold and legs to run into the ground-

now

  the comfort of concrete knows

 little compassion for faint patience

and i've payed debts with enough steps

   to take me to every home i've ever known

back to every bed i've left

and back from every future i hold

  engraved in the rings around my eyes

i've sacrificed my vision

   staring at blank surfaces and

the outcome is  always written out by my 

      perpetually-darting glance

i've thrown away teeth

   removed by my own fingers

but was too young to recognize how

        well i was adapting--

and

   i've compensated the asphalt with my skin:

          torn between a fall and where it belongs---

 if i could tell 

    a young me where he was headed, 

           i would just say "up"