today is the spring equinox

and everything is spooky
like halloween in march

the moon is nowhere in sight
and neither are you and this is another
broken empty-room night alone in the haunted house

today is also something else
important
at least to me
but maybe it really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of life at all
and i'm just cracking a lot faster than i origninally thought
which is entirely plausible
you know
because not everyone is convinced without reason that
they're being hunted down by the authorities
every time a siren wails its melancholy
down my street
but maybe it would be better if
they were hunting me down
i could pull a tim when they take me
plead insanity
spend inordinate amounts of time
writing in a six foot deep hole in the back yard
just behind the ferns
that uncurl like fetal spines in the summer
how's that for irony

because here's a secret
i miss the sky and the dry
air and ten thirty sunsets
and on-site reminiscense
and the fucking highway hand out the window wind hissing at my eyelids sing until i can't hear the sirens behind me kind of driving
nisha
hardwood floors
a washing machine in the basement
a basement that's not full of dead bodies and ruptured sewage lines
my best friend
the stoner park
even though they tore it up to make an underground parkade
(they paved paradise
and put up a parking lot)
so that's kind of a moot point anyway

i don't need to be reminded to follow
my heart
by hallmark card telephone sentiments
it's just marginally more difficult when you have a borderline
personality
and by this point this "spiritual revelation"
is beginning to make me feel like the correspondent
in this little open boat and i'm pretty much ready
to throw up my hands and play rock
paper scissors with the universe to make this decision
because honestly
the correspondent wondered ingenuously how in the name of all that was sane could there be people who thought it an amusement to row a boat
it was not an amusement
it was a diabolical punishment

salutations from the middle of the pacific ocean
my favourite lovers
i'll remember you all
in my afterlife hallucinations
when i impale myself with the oar