a family friend reaches out via linkedin

thanks for the good wishes, i put them
in the drawer of my bedside table,
hoping to one day fill the morrow of
pockmarked sky, that jar of stolen
marbles, the misplaced color of grief.
and yes, i’ve been reading up on truancy,
or trigonometry. that is to say: leaving,
refraction in its sharp angles; on my way
to another strange somewhere, swallowing
a handful of moons to try and make it through
night. selfish living, how we drop our loose
change down cracks in the earth and avoid
strangers with our scrolling gaze, ignorant in
smithsonian delight. i remember a time when
it wasn’t like this, i think. meaning better, or
at least different, having now sang the same
song as ever aging youth. i’m 25 now, which
should mean something or at least not nothing.
my theory or therapist states that all recollection
is a house in a field at the end of a winding road
or a silent planet or an empty we cannot fathom.
nesting, these uncertain hands cupped and
waiting for rain. it’s easy to be tired, i think.
birds silhouette the gradient of morning and
i wake up, prepare for another restless day.

Lucas Peel spends his time telling everyone who will listen about his ongoing battle with lactose intolerance.  He was born in the year of the banana and likes thinking about the sounds dinosaurs make.  He is currently floating somewhere in the Pacific.