LABIAL YELL: Public Vulnerability

I recommend a public vulnerabilty. Offline.
Forget the abstract theoretical people who populate your cyber circle give me give me tension and will they see me and will they see my vulnerability.

We exist via our own Willingness to be.
There is no purpose.

All that exists is the awesome accident of us being here, surviving in a world that’s always been breaking.

Allow the molecules in. They will make the most of you.
The water is moving.

“Hey, are you OK?”
I don’t know this man.
Roughly twenty years older than I am, leather-sleeved football jacket billowing in the wind, glasses non-tinted.
I read discomfort in his eyes, in his pocketed hands, in his bald head sweat pattern soaking through his bucket hat, the suction of the breeze keeping his khaki pants tight against his old-man-walking-by-the-water-at-noon-on-a-Friday body.

I am crying.
Sitting on a bench, staring at a dock far away, sobbing with controlled breaths.
It happens to be a good time to cry.
And, I found some space here. Finally.
And he asks “Are you OK?”
I don’t want to look at him. But, I turn his way.
WHAT IF I’M NOT, GUY? WHAT IF I JUST THREW A BODY IN THE WATER? WHAT IF I’M ABOUT TO THROW MY BODY IN THE WATER? WHAT WILL YOUR LACK OF EVERYTHING I NEED IN MY LIFE DO IF I AM NOT OK? YOU. ARE. OLD. DO YOU EVEN HAVE A PHONE?
He totally had a phone. He was on the phone. He was asking someone he knows if they are OK.
My mistake.

White seagulls marked with brown mysteries reach their chins upwards. Laughing.
I laugh too.

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