no chickens today

This is the year when I cut the bullshit.

Not the first layer (ditched that in college)

or the second (done and dusted)

but the bullshit that says

that I have to be careful with you,

my dear.

Careful

is not getting us anywhere

and I love you too much

and I champion your brilliance too deeply

and I believe in ease too completely

to waste energy

on careful.

Let’s do the easy

extravagant

incredible thing.

Let’s say what we really mean

I love you

I’m scared

I think you’re lying to yourself

because you’re afraid to fly.

Let’s laugh like we mean it

let’s hold each other

cry

hug

and do the impossible

before breakfast

(or after if we’re hungry).

Let’s put our faith

in each other

in the good of humanity

in the taste of pancakes

in the cleanness of a rain-soaked heart

let’s commit

let’s dive in

let’s find the ease where we think it cannot exist.

I watched on TV last night

as divers sent a remote submarine

into the Mariana Trench

where the living earth

meets the living ocean

where everything roils

and very little is solid

and the ocean is very unforgiving

don’t put anything in there

you can’t afford to lose.

Very well.

Let’s go all the way deep

and let’s not lose it.

Let’s make the single

fiber-optic umbilical cord

that connects you now

to the you-who-will-be

a compelling reason

not to give up

and to grin and giggle

and dance until it’s not easy anymore

and then stop

and sip drinks

and play footsie under the table.

I wrote you an essay about chickens.

It was good.

But…it was about chickens.

What it said was this:

do not sustain subtle irritations.

Transform them through love

for yourself

and for the other.

There,

wasn’t that easy?

If your year is shaping up like mine,

all flashes of impossible bright light

illuminating dark shadows,

and epiphanies in the middle of the night,

then by all means,

let’s play together.