a 2-parter that may be cheesey

part 1:
why im' missing you

Hmmm, i've been pondering this...i have not missed my friends this much before
but then i've never had so many friends before, or, rather, not so many people i really can't believe that i know and who know me
it's just like, whoa, i know these people? THESE people?
does that make me cool?
or at least that's my train of thought
plus yer all so all over the place, not a one of you in the same state as the others
like i was thinking, when i go to ann arbor to take japanese classes this summer, i'll only know 4 people there (sherri, phoebe, cristina, and jack)
and then my parents of course

it's so strange, i guess, for there to be people for me to miss
yeah, i guess that's it

part 2:
some of what gives me strength:

i am standing on a wooden thinger that goes out over lake michigan and the sun is setting and there's a man and his son standing off to the side of me, on the right
and i think, i could jump in there and die of hypothermia, it's so cold!
and i think about it some more, and i look at the sunset, and then i turn around and see my dad walking down the dock or whatever it is to tell me about the metal thing behind me that used to be a small lighthouse thing, and my mom is sitting in the car with the heat bursting out of the vents like some sort of heart pumping warmth
and the cliffs are ORANGE with the sunset, like some old painting that i wouldn't like on a wall, but which, in life, is beautiful, stunning, breat-take-away-ing
i stand there and then watch the sun fall under the water, changing from large eye to half circle to piece of mostly eaten candy to a strange aura of red

i am sleeping in a strange bed, and everything is white, but i'm staring at teh ceiling
and i'm not awake, i'm on the verge of being awake, fading in and out of sleep and there's a noise i recognize, that if i put my finger on it, the whole world would make sense and i would say 'oh' and breathe deeply
and then i know it's tori amos, and someone is playing that first album on piano, albeit not perfectly, or even well at points, and i know them and i will walk up the stairs and say hello and eat indian food and the day will flow like words out of some poet's mouth
i will wake up, but for now i am on the verge of sleep, on the shores of reality, unencumbered, listening to someone play familiar songs over and over until the whole world makes sense, and thinking 'oh' i move the sheets

i am sitting by some body of water, both lake michigan and the muddy lake up north and the lake at NELP and i don't know anyone's names because the people are not all the same and none of the them stick, like feathers on sand
i know that i'm talking and they're talking and mostly i'm offended, but generally i just laugh it off and know they are intelligent and cool and we're having fun
and then, looking over the water, everything is clear and i'm me at some particular moment staring in darkness or the waves of lake michigan, or the constantly different sunsets of maine or the whole entire world
and all i can think is 'hot damn' or something equally vapid of meaning in comparison to mountains and rivers and valleys and streams (or for that matter, flesh and blood and muslces and everything working as one)

i am walking in ann arbor with a beautiful, incredibly intelligent woman, and we are going somewhere to do something (to eat? to watch a movie?) and we both look up at the same time to see the sun peaking through the clouds like some thought the world had ("i remember the paintings that people have painted of me and so i'll be that today")
and she says "it's like clouds in a painting" and i think
my god, i have been waiting my whole life for someone to say what i would say or merely share a perspective
so that i could know that i'm not crazy, that i won't end up like my aunt pat, isolated and dangerous in an old farm house surrounded by suburbs
and i agreed with that woman, and we walked on,

and i have never stopped thinking how amazing it is to know people who are so strange and wonderful and full of surprises and sameness all at once