Quick trip to Joshua Tree. All expenses paid for me. In the desert, by the pool. Kinda weird, yeah? Kinda cool. Flee from winter to the heat. Toast my face and dunk my feet. Icy plunge then hot tub soak. Drinking flavored diet coke. Get some prickles in my socks. Drive a bit to hike on rocks. Textures twist to twirling eyes. Roiling rainbows hypnotize. Trek to Palm Springs in the car. Candied shrimp and tiki bar. Get up late the final day. Breakfast, hugs, then on my way.
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Poems are just practicing to give my thoughts a rhythmic ring, to measure and triangulate the right words to communicate my dreams, desires, desperations by transcriptive calculations into textured explorations of each moment's fascinations. I like to go wandering. It clears my mind for pondering. Or should I say perambulate to help me shift my mental state to open wide to new fixations like these rhyming meditations on my routine observations of my neighborhood's vibrations.
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Bright colored lights, strung joyously, shine and cast their glow into the calm of the star-filled night as a chill wind nips your nose and mine, the expression of this budding winter's coming frozen bite. This street I've often walked before whose neighbors never miss a chance to share the season's cheer has dressed itself in strands of Santa's festival decor and calls to every one of us, "Happy Holidays and New Year".
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(No photo yet, but I'm working on it.) New friend. New company. Never met before. Not really. But now you're right there. Cuz I need someone to be. Panic hits. And you say "come walk with me". Check in often. "How's it going today?" Each "good morning" helps my fear melt away. A bag of persimmons and crisp pickle drink. A text message and then a knock on the door. It's nice to have met you, if just for a blink. It's sad to leave here and not be neighbors more. With shining nails and a long winter coat, just like in that song, this homemade soup you brought today has really helped me get along. Are you touring the facility of my anxiety? Are you picking up the slack in my need for society? I don't know about prosperity, but I think for sure you've brought treasured variety. Though once my house is done and sold, I wonder, will my stress be solved? In just a month, as plans unfold, will our new friendship be dissolved? I hope not. But also sometimes that happens. But also I hope not.
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Little man, the bat cat, sitting on a flat mat. With your vacant stare. Head is filled with air.
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These poems are Avi's diary. You can email him at avi@invariablyhappy.com