There used to be a time when I’d
fall asleep in bed and wake up on the
couch or pissing on my then girlfriend’s
shoes in the corner of our bedroom, mid-stream,
hearing her ask if I’m peeing on her shoes
as I’m still coming to, and I’d feel a little helpless
and really just sink into the wonder of
what the fuck was going on in my brain
during those otherwise quotidian Portland
nights that cling to you like a spider web.

The pissing thing only happened once,
but the other thing happened a lot
and I just chalked it up to a mild history
of sleepwalking and then stopped wondering,
but maybe I shouldn’t have stopped
wondering because eventually I blew
everything up (i.e. relationship, finances,
almost even work!) and then I really
started wondering what the fuck was
going on in my brain during those
otherwise quotidian days and nights
of Portland that pulsed and dragged with so
much memory and history of something
I can’t quite put my finger on (daddy issues?
death? nostalgia? regret? dreams?!)
and so I haven’t stopped wondering since.

Now I’ve wondered myself past all the past
fuckery of quotidian days and nights and the
secret revolutions of my brain.
I’m the champion of wonder and I wonder
all that’s good and gravy and my takeaway
is this:

Life is full of lessons and sundry realizations.
Sometimes you’re the hero,
sometimes the villain,
and sometimes you don’t matter at all.
Heaven is always at hand
and Hell is simply the distance
between me and everything I love.