San Anselmo

San Anselmo would have been far enough, but it isn’t where I am now and it’s not where I was. So if you feign some interest and ask me how I’m holding up, I wouldn’t say I’m doing well now, but I guess I’m doing well enough. And in your presence, the coldest place was warm enough. I’d never felt so welcome. It was pure and unconditional. So if circumstances led me backwards to a precipice, I wouldn’t do it any different. It was perfect just the way it was. How long can I keep this up? I’ve been spinning in circles for months. My heart’s in so many places at once. I don’t think I can stay here. I want to frame your figure, but the colors change so quickly. I want to let the light in and let it rip right through me. But in the bristles of your brush, I am a pallid pigment. Like a chord that won’t resolve, I am suspended and dissonant.