I’ve decided that everyone’s
right about everything.
And that if I listen carefully
to whoever’s talking about
whatever subject, I just might hear
the part he’s getting right.
The only thing is,
I can’t speak.
When I’m alone again,
I remember the words, ideas and stories
and I toss them high. I play. I
juggle. I watch the colors
sparkle in the sun. And when they
all fall down, I let them stay
where they land. Most end up
on the ground. The ones I catch
I throw up again and again until
I’m left with a singular
truth. I sometimes forgetwhere it came from.