.

there are things you know and there are things you learn while eating a chicken sandwich
off of the value menu on an interstate overpass at 2 am


i had a dream once
i had a jar of butterflies and a magnifying glass and a chest full of violent tendencies.
i had a pocket knife and a blank notebook lined with wrists.
i had a balcony or mountaintop or foolish proclivity to look down.
         ( sometimes i feel like my fear of heights is the only thing keeping me above ground.
           and we often like to talk about rock bottom without mention of the valley it took to get there. )
i had a glass or two or seven and stumbled my way through.
i had a heart or crescent moon that knew my name and that, for a moment, seemed like enough.
i had a home once. i had a hand once. then it wasn’t mine anymore. or, it never was.
i dreamt it waving first before disappearing forever into the checkered streetlight.
i dreamt it neon. i dreamt it pulsing, a tiny row of wingless insects marching single file.
i dreamt it a fitting goodbye.

then i woke up. then, like i am known to do, looked down at the blur of traffic, an ocean of static,
a kind of vast blackness or slumber or nostalgia i never learned the name of.

and though tonight i don’t jump, i still hope to live there one day.