I've Seen Jerusalem.

I like the edge
but heights make my head float a little.
I can walk a line
but there is no doubt I'll trip.
My feet are big
and I never had balance.
Mistakes follow me like pigeons
but I'm the one who leaves breadcrumbs.
I always colored outside the lines.
In ink that can never erase.
So don't be surprised when I hold a flame
to that edge
until its fire.

My head was hurting so much when I drove to you last night. The cd was the right volume and the hum of my exhaust was almost soothing, but the pounding feeling in the back of my brain was almost too much. I took the snaking black roads through giant doll houses and rolling sea grass dunes. At the top of the hill, I saw you and you were what I was feeling inside, wild. You reached up, punching into the air, throwing spray and brine. You swirled and threw yourself against the rocks that were plunked into your center, all around. The wind was whipping when I got out of my car in that empty parking lot. I knew I shouldn't be here alone, it wasn't safe. But I wanted nothing near me, I wanted no one to answer to, I wanted no one to know I existed. I knew something was wrong and I always think you have the answer.

In my sandals, I climbed over the guard rail and onto the rocks, shaking. I sat down and held my legs close as I watched you roll and dip, crash and recede. I couldn't see the horizon, which made me feel like you were endless. So I told you in my mind what was going on with me, and I told the lighthouse what I was scared of, and I told the small shack on the rock island what I wanted most in life. I whispered into the stars what I didn't believe in, and what I did. And you were all the best audience I've ever had.

But I didn't speak a word. I hope I don't ever need to.
I think I'll see you soon though.