sarsaparilla

march comes in like a lion every year.
every year when spring approaches, the weather gets bipolar, even though some folks forget.
monday i had to crack my car windows to release the warmth to keep from dying in the car.
tuesday i had to turn on my car's heater.
the weekend only required a light jacket, if anything at all.
tuesday i had to put on my lined wool pea coat.
and everyone (else) is hacking and coughing and sneezing.
for me, it's not illness, it's sinus pressure headaches.
fl.onase here i come.
the buds aren't here yet, though i'm looking forward to it.
this would be a beautiful time to fall in love.
this would be a terrible time to fall in love.
i'm not yet sure if i have the heart and energy for it.
i am sure that i don' t have the time for it.
if i could do it without having to give of myself, that would be great.
but there is no justice, no balance, no love in that.
but there is no chaos, poetry or magic... in timing and judging your love.
i've been having dreams and they are talking to me about love.
my love.
others' love.
optimism about love.
so now, i don't like dreaming anymore, 'cause i can't force my dreams' direction.
i went through a period where i couldn't remember my dreams for all my effort.
now i can't stop remembering them.
can't forget them even if i wanted to.
i cling desperately to my defiance and cynicism as my dreams try to wrest them from me.
i meant to talk about the weather.
i did not mean to talk about my heart's vulnerabilities.
sometimes honesty is unnerving.
what a mind job.
i learned yesterday that sarsaparilla (sass-parilla) is a plant that cowboys used to drink to fight impurities.
interestingly enough, that's what i use writing for sometimes.
i also learned that sweetpotato tastes good with salmon.
i learned that i loved some people that i hadn't yet thought that way about yet.
i went to three places looking for a cd but i found it.
funny the things we'll do for music that massages that part of you that wants to forget your dreams.