in saintly rows outside my windows

I know its all worth something --
the short stories I let slip between couch cushions, the awe of black and white despair,
count singing, drinking dr. pepper, activation energy equations, linear functions, intense stares.

I know I have free will, that I make every decision, but sometimes the days jump ahead and draw faint pencil thin maps for me -- i process flow charts that lead down and around and back again. There are a few destinations which I can clearly make out in the distance, without looking through the trees. a breeze, right?
Jintao, Zach and I watched a short documentary on a man living in the arctic, cutting through the bone of caribou and knowing land like the back of a weathered hand. "Would you like to live like that?"
Yeah, maybe. Mostly because it would be different than what I'm doing right now -- it's an experience I've never had, appealing, heart reaching. A situation out of the frame I circle round and, within, paint a life.

"when you come for me, come
feverish and violent
like a pounding on my door at night,
like a revolution"