Constantly trying to connect

The world is full of people trying to connect
and all their behavior
connected to that

Their hate and their shame
their denial of those things
their compliments
and cries for help

Through comment threads
and self righteous posts
through social networks
and @ mentions
and meaningless words

We were designed to connect

When we walk in each others paths
at a grocery store
and say excuse me
and apologize
for mutual incidental
obstruction

The internet is constantly trying to connect
even when walls go up
and demands for justice
and demands for freedom
and arbitrary rules and philosophies
splinter

it is a form of connection
like a modem
like a USB cable
like a magsafe connector
pulled from it's socket

Even the fringes of society
feel this pull

Its what pulls lost souls to a fight
in across the world
or drives jets into mountains

Its what causes men to kill other men
to fit in
to feel a cause
to feel connected

We are not all killers
most of us anyway

I watched the explosions
at the marathon again and again
and saw the old man stumble
and white smoke rise into the air
like steam from a subway vent

I watched each person's expression
I watched some people run
and two others walk quietly

I saw the pain and surprise
and the need to connect

The two brothers with each other
connecting with an idea
the one brother following the older one
now standing trial alone

Next to a group of jurors
a television camera
connected to a satellite truck

Does the current move us
or do we disturb the water

Could we endure a standing puddle
if it meant not moving at all
toward each other
away from others
to a concept
an idea
of escape from loneliness

Incipit via nova

Here begins the new life
the super nova that begins
this universe
of realization
where every word matters

Where the trees blow with a hot breeze
and flags whip at the violence
whip with violence
fearful of old

Dancing in the water at the beach
skipping over white caps
in the bay like
a stone propelled
by an unseen force

This is the change in the season
where spring has become summer
before winter had a chance to sprinkle
white dust on brown branches

this is mostly nonsense
but sometimes a bloody nose
feels good
the deep red that lets you know
there are operations under the skin
and synapses firing
with pain
I am alive
they say

A man ran down the bridge with a middle finger
toward all of us sitting in traffic
all because of a red light
hes not wrong
we are
we
are
stuck
and he is free

free to be angry
and to love
and feel the pain I am isolated from in the car

A pinch is freedom
a cut is ecstasy
a gash is like an orgasm
of Life

But without a mind
these things are meaningless
without a sense of self
these things happen to no one

so we remove ourselves from it
and concentrate on the immediate
but sometimes the scar
is more satisfying
than the blood

Scraped knees are called a raspberry when you are six
how many times did i have scabbed knees
so much that my skin is bleached white
in sections
where new growth took place

I took a step into the inferno
and walked amongst the fel saints
who chose nothing to something
but it wasnt who I was

In that way my shortcomings
as a person
my lack of success or common sense
has saved me

I spent four years with bruised forearms in high school
and soon it became who I was
intrinsically
and felt good

The Long Beach block party

Far from vaulted ceilings and matrimony
and white walls and white balloons
and untouchable society
exists a dry
hot heat

Take away the boring conversations about
privilege
or right or wrong

and go to the beach on a sunday
where the water is mixed with grime
from the ships parked off shore

Long Beach like an industrial monolith
colored green and red cargo
containers stacked high
like a cathedral
to the economy

in the distance a fake waterfall
covers op an oil rig

the smell of pot and cigarettes
the sound of hip hop
and Mexican music

of people having a good time

(ghetto ass beach) a kid says as i walk past

Black and brown, some white

and me

I can pass through this scene
relatively unnoticed though
that is the power of
being some sort of minority

though in reality im only tangibly welcome
but also
I realize that in some strange way I do belong here

And that no matter what I do,
I am just like those little chubby kids
wearing T-shirts in the water

The other day I ate with my fiance
amongst old people, Mexicans, black people
the same group I see at the beach

and the funny thing is
I remember being a little kid here
and not in a fancy building with beautiful people
or in dingy nighttime art venues
or healthy fancy, delicious home grown restaurants

I remember the smoking section at Spires
and my grandpa disappearing after we ate
and coming back smelling like cigarettes

or my uncles backyard parties
on 90 degree summer nights
that smelled like cheap beer

I remember running through a lawn sprinkler


 I may not be like them,
but I cant ignore that
I am less out of place there
than most places.