Working Offline

Stephen King said to me

that telepathy was a possibility 

when a reader reads

the words a writer 

was once thinking. 

Two minds distinct 

in the same place 

at different times, 

The Talking Heads’s line, 

“And you may ask yourself, 

‘Well, how did I get here?’” 

Jacob’s interpretation of a dream;

two prisoners and one meaning:

     Sometimes you’re fucked 

     while on other occasions you hit luck. 

It’s like learning to back a truck,

the steer tires turn opposite the rear-end, 

a pivot point in the middle of a 5th wheel skid plate,  

or realizing that this screenplay 

might be to build muscle memory

for learning the proper format

for next one’s scene heading.

So much depends on 

Williams Carlos Williams’s life lived,

like when I was a kid, or what I’d call myself back then, 

I thought that if you kept a day job too long 

then you hadn’t learned how to dream big. 

Enough, how about Adam 

and the responsibility of naming eternity?

A tarantula, a giraffe, you or me.

Eight legs, a long neck, and being four beers deep, 

defining is a position that I’ll never be interested in resigning. 

11:56 PM means a Google Drive cursor blinking,

bi-lingually speaking about a Charles Bukowski reading, 

and thinking about what the possibility of being a parent might mean. 

The Fleet Foxes on repeat, 

Can I Believe You?

and a self-reflective scene. 

Recognizing that it’s a blessing 

to come across a woman who realizes 

what man you could be;

while simultaneously acknowledging

that you’re well into your 30’s

and starting seems like something

that you should have already been 

in the process of doing, 

Back to the Future’s plot being 

the hero goal sequence of 

a man and a woman deciding 

if what they have is worth continuing 

until one of their hearts stop beating.

Learning that being ambidextrous means 

the lack of two sides

(Stephen King’s mentioning of time), 

and one man alone circling;

the reflection of my iPhone’s screen, 

you next to me, connection being 

Forrest Gump’s, “JENNY!”

Like asking you for advice, 

should I continue to focus on this 

or put it into writing? 

You replied to me,

“Dan, what do you think?”

Hearts beat: one, two, three. 

“I’m scared of a time 

when writing ceases to be 

a functional form of creativity.”

“Why?”

“Well, I need something to fight.”  

I opened the front door 

while she was grabbed 

the lunch that she had packed for me. 

She looked outside, 

“Don’t worry, just because you got a little peace, 

there will always be something

in need 

of challenging.”