G:
Life, I feel more certainly,
as the years flutter by,
is hilarious.
Right? Can't I say that?
Haven't I earned, at least,
those stripes?
Painting, again, even in tiny strokes,
has already improved my outlook,
as it tends to do,
even as the prospects of friendship
have turned my head, ironically,
to mush.
It seems as though outside hands,
from places both secured and surprising,
work in strange concert,
to hold my pink heart aloft.
Sometimes gratitude,
is all I know.
How could that be wrong?
Right?
Please,
keep with the holding.
I, for one, am holding on.
Always,
me.
P.S. I know you think it feeds my ego,
but tell me, for a hot minute,
that I am super-good, at something.
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