Can you hear my mind through the silence in-between the songs? Can you hear the poems in the back of my head, or the love my synapses sing whenever I turn to look at you? Do my fingers speak of how they would stroke your hair and glide along your cheekbone? Do my eyes project onto yours the same images I see? Images of us on our backs, holding hands, looking out for falling stars.
Do my lips speak of the happiness they find on yours?
There is a wildfire burning inside of me, engulfing every fiber of my being in its relentless flames. I have welcomed it, helped it spread, and am unwilling to attempt to put it out. Why would I?
It’s the best thing that’s happened to me in I don’t remember how long.
– I think it’s been years since I’ve been as happy as I am right now, in this moment, lying here with you. If I could, I’d lay here forever. Would you?
– I have to pee…
Calvin the Hippo
I am not like other hippos. Many would not know it, but it’s true. The main problem with being me is that I have to look for happiness in other hippos. I have none of my own, so I can only feed off of someone else’s, someone who is willing to share theirs, someone who cares. Things would be easier if I wasn’t such a picky hippo. I don’t accept just anyone’s happiness; I have to make sure I like their happiness. I have to make sure it suits me. It generally does not.
I am not like other hippos.
I am standing in a field. It’s a beautiful, sunny day, the wind is gently blowing through the trees, birds are singing, I can hear a river flowing somewhere nearby, and I am happy.
As I stand there with my arms open and eyes closed, taking in the smell of the flowers, I hear someone calling my name. I turn around and
Today, I am happy.
Maybe tomorrow, too.