Possessing the Secret of Joy

Is in those moments when you’re most blinded, you’ll find it possessed, bazodeed, when you’re least aware of what you have. That moment of joy, seeing her standing there waiting, pieces of her blowing in the wind. She smokes another cigarette, checking her cell phone because she’s lonely without you. And when she catches a glimpse of you, all you see is her dimples. And your smile is broad enough that you silently cry a secret joy, because even though you can’t really see, your eyes find each other. You embrace.

Is there such a thing?
Are there moments so sure
that you’re so unaware of?

Find it possessed, bazodeed
with your cataract eyes
incapable of recognizing joy

as she waits there for you
dimpled and broad smiled
lonely for your sauntering suspension?

We embrace, because it’s been that long
since we’ve caught a sighting that spectacular
shooting ephemeral phenomenologies
burning a thousand years away.

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