This is not the beginning. It’s also not the end, but an ongoing swerve down a different street. There is no destination. Just drive. There is no normal, regular, like everyone, same. Just you. Who you are today. At this exact moment. Do not be more for anyone. Do not look or wait for love. Do it now. Don’t confuse this with impulsive jumping off beds. You can calculate every knee bend-push-elbows out-up-spread fingers. You can plan your world takeover. (Because you will and began the day you were born.) You are already who you are supposed to be. You will never be this person again. Just keep driving. Or walking if you prefer. Remember images in magazines, on TV, on movies, on the internet, on the billboards are flat and one dimensional. You are 18 dimensions and you are to kiss each and every one of them. Go and be and forget and do and exist and feel and ration and investigate and doubt everyone, even your mother. Names we are given can be worn like a hat on a rainy day, but you can choose to wear them or not. So have plenty. Try them all. Or none. If you don’t like hats, be a lab coat. Or a wristwatch. Nothing is supposed to make complete sense. It never ever ever will. That’s okay as long as you can walk around it. Be wrong a lot. Be a force of nature. Be curious about frogs and satellites and pop songs and politics. Love rebelliously. Don’t let them tell you it’s pointless. It is and it isn’t. I love you.
Cadence Collective: Long Beach Poets 