—WHAT YOU DID WAS, YOU SAVED MY LIFE

 

 

People Holding

 

The thing about the planet, which is obvious, is that it’s huge, though not as colossal as the solar system, which has another and another and still many other solar systems right behind it, yet it’s—our earth—still plenty sizable, overflowing with people everywhere, scattered here and there in the nooks, some of them fighting traffic right now, holding a cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee and wondering if they should risk a car shave, some hugging a curb with their mind blank or blitzed out because of an overabundance of substances, as cars pass by like seconds in a day you can’t ever get back, while other people across the globe could be holding someone they love the most in the entire world, right there in the crux of their lap, looking at them shot-up with cruel bits of cement and bomb shrapnel, more colorful than a painting, more grotesque than death itself, or others might be breastfeeding one of life’s miracles in a hospital somewhat solitary, just the two of them, as God or the universe once upon a time intended, while someone else could be holding a garishly written sign of protest as a string of black SUVs slide by ostentatiously, shots fired, rubber bullets or otherwise, but of all those billions of people on the planet, doing those things they’re doing right now, in this second and the next which will soon transpire, I want you to know that you’re my favorite person on the planet, that I’ll always be holding you close and tight, even if you never know it.