Flying through life by the seat of my pants

I haven’t yet learned how to leave my body,

and search for invisible sun in the darkness.

You never know how brave

you are until you’re tested.

A downhill departure

makes me feel nauseous.

No one warned me it’s going to be hard.

You’re supposed to live in the here and now.

I should have learned how to bake bread

and have more fun.

I never expected the whole world

to be so poisonous.

I see Hebrew letters graffiti

on the wall of National Hall,

home of the German Bund.

My sneakers hang on an electric wire

like kielbasa sausages next to a bushy nest

on a transformer keeping singing parakeets warm.

I didn’t want anyone to invade my space.

I had to bob and weave, and feint my blows,

in order to prevent blood on the ground.

I still love to inhale the smell of the sea.

I remember when I could swim like a fish.

In my youth, girlfriends were summertime

dew-drops of bliss that meant more to me

than notches on my belt.

Everyone is an imposter

who may not be trusted.

You smile, and say you love me

when I’m not sure it’s true.

It’s easy to be misunderstood

when the moon turns to rust.