Linear. Or: To live life at sea level

I should’ve paid closer attention in geography.
maybe then I would know why it’s impossible to wish
to live life at sea level
wherever I go.

I have no use for mountain tops, nor hills,
and I’ve known the bottom of the ocean my whole life:
safe to say I’ve had more than my fair share of

and that’s not what I want.

I do not care for depths,
just make me one-dimensional:
a blurry presence flat against their background,
living vicariously through them.
that would be enough.

I’ve had more than my fair share of climbs and descents.
I want to be linear.

do not curse me
with cloud nines,
nor with rock bottoms.

leave me be.

one with the tranquil meadows
morphing into virgin beaches where my feet will know to stop
at the edge of the all-too-familiar body of water.
and tread no farther.

– Patricia

I find comfort in small talk

Larger-than-life smiles
Spreading so easily on cordial faces with
Happy-go-lucky attitudes.
Only passing strangers chatting cheerfully for a while
Without the burden of being the main character.

If I could choose
I would much rather be
Not even the supporting character
But an extra briefly appearing on screen for 3.1557 seconds
With a smile on their face
Not having a care in the world
And always that: a passing figure seemingly content
Without having to dig deeper for a spectrum of emotions—
At the very most becoming “Woman with Dog #1.”

If I could choose
I would much rather be the stranger
Exchanging pleasantries,
Sounding like they’re in control and
Know what they’re doing with their life
Rather than be the main character,
Painfully self-conscious, always having to reach decisions,
Ruminating during every. living. moment.
Worried about not living my life to the fullest,
Facing the amalgam of one-second sand grains
Swiftly falling from the upper glass bulb of life
Into the lower half, weighing me down.

So you see,
No matter how superficial you may deem such conversations to be,
I find comfort in small talk.

– Patricia