When I was just a little boy,
I was told that the imagination is the biggest playground.
So, I spent hours alone turning boxes into homes,
playing doctor with kitchen utensils and teddy bears,
and sailing the seas of our backyard in search of buried treasure.

No one told me
there would be no boundaries.
The worlds I created were expansive, ever-growing,
without limits.
Somewhere, maybe in the oceans of our backyard,
or while hiking over mountains of dining room chairs
I may have lost my compass because
now I find I don’t know how to face reality.

As an adult (supposedly)
I don’t know how to deal with budget-cuts and car repairs
the way I probably should,
because I’m seeing flying paper drifting from a skyscraper
and a mechanic that would be the best down-to-earth husband.
A night on the town is a red carpet event, a bad break-up is just my romantic transitional phase, and those days (or weeks) that just don’t work out
are my Meg Ryan moments.

So, I’m sorry that I had to come back down to earth
when you asked me to.
I was lost in a field of sunflowers with you, running
as the June sun shone down on the setting in my thoughts
while a melodic buzzing of bees surrounded us because
I think you are the bees knees,
like that weak-in-the-knees feeling I get
when the hairs on your arm graze mine.

But I won’t apologize for being absent
because even though it seemed I was gone
I was never absent from you.
I may have lost my compass
but you have become my map.
I know that you are still here when I am not,
the X that marks the spot where I know
I have a place to come back to.
And even when I see us sailing seas and racing through mountains,
at least you’re there with me
and I’m finally not there alone.

About Ry

It's so magical, it's gay.
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