the things i'm thankful for

hot coffee
cold nights without the edge
comforters and blankets
the bounce in my sneakers.
keeping my balance when the wind blows,
(it wants to knock me down sometimes)
scarves and snot rockets like slingshots on the ground
seeing my breath and wondering how it got there

cold beer
hot, sweaty legs
the state between hunger and panic
when everything is loose and surreal
clenching clammy hands and rubbing them on your face
just to calm yourself down, damp like a glass
chocolate. or the sensation of having
treading water in a warm swimming pool
feeling at home inside a pair of arms
breathing. no matter how much you dirty it up

standing still, imagining you're on pause
then running ahead just to catch up
feeling in place, like you're making sense
then skipping a beat because it felt good
eyes, letting go, feeding someone, staring
the unveiling of something heavy
not being afraid. songs. strange animal noises.
skype. unintentional architecture as you unclasp your fingers
and just reach for something instead of watching someone else do it.
being one step below grace but still in its peripheral,
it's good not to be forgotten.
solo dances, staring at dresses you can't afford but hope one day to make,
mothers. feeling connected. cariño.
knowing more than what you think, doing more than what you should
hugs. frosty mugs. cussing. the way cats purr when they're hungry
then rub against your leg because they know that's what works for you
no matter how many times they walk away. children not crying,
smiling instead because you did a good job
cold water down a dry and empty throat, on a moment's note
and in it contains your life. no matter the heat or the wind or the ice.
settling in, tucking in and dreaming away to ease the missing.
open-eyed kissing, after coming face to face with the uglies turned beautiful.
being thankful, and hearing you're welcome
it never gets old