what are you doing here?

sometimes you have to go back,
be cause
you missed it
the first time...

"what are you doing here?"
he said

she heard a tone
she heard lack of love
she heard rejection
she heard failure
she heard inadequacy

she
did not hear 
the question

"what
are you
doing
here?"

now,
in just this instant?

no idea

without a past,
without a future...

maybe i'm here
to hear
the question

to hear
the rushing sound
of the "heater",

to see,
to feel,
the curve of the arm of the rocking chair

to hear
the creaking in the ceiling

to feel
cold toes,
the smooth flow of ink as pen moves across paper

to breathe,
to feel
the rise and fall of the chest,
in and out of nose

to see
sunlight
on deck outside window

to see #78 light up in yellow
on the cable box

isn't that everything?

there will never be more than 'this'

if i can't completely love
this little heater
in front of me now,
whooshing and purring

i will never be more fulfilled
than this moment

if i deny this moment
its repetoire,
its choir,
it,
infinity,
without a name...

i will forever be lonely,
looking
for the next hit...
to  kill
my nightmare
of NOT

in this little heater
is all of Heaven

exclude nothing
from Love's arena...

that's what's i'm here for,
to experience what its like
to exclude nothing
from Love

thank you, Aaron,
from the bottom of my heart
for asking such a profound
and direct question...

sometimes
you have to go back,
be cause
you missed it
the first time...