world, you rock my world.
you’re really complicated. but sometimes you seem really simple. and you can convince me that you’re simple enough that i can understand aspects of you. sometimes you lull me to sleep, and then dunk me in a tank of freezing cold water. you offer me hot tea in the winter. you bring me Ayn Rand and Jane Street Capital and Paris and bluegrass and organic granny smith apples from New Zealand. you show me beauty that comes from myself, from my mind, from my creativity. you show me ugliness in myself, and beauty in others. you have me pick my nose. you present Ron Paul and 911 truthers and George W Bush and security cameras in london. i shut my eyes and you bring pink flamingos and 35 cent guitar picks. you’ve got seagulls, the Eagles, true love, and trolleys. and you let me spout unfathomable nonsense and give me the strange courage to click the publish button. but maybe not yet. you taunt me with language and it’s limitations, yet you show me the limitations of silence too. i can’t get a grip on you, because you’re not grippable. you’re always changing. and, importantly, you put yogurt into my fridge. and a peach.