i don’t have any of the answers

but i have my sharp breath
against a pink dawn, the
sky a brilliant ultramarine blue
in the shadows of cold air,
cars over a busy freeway,
headlights cutting through,
i have the stars wrapped
around my fingers, the moon
bright and full, i have your
sweater hugging my waist,
and spring flowers,
bleeding roses, spiked over
tender hearts, the sunrise
spilling a soup of UV light
onto my shoulders, i have the
whiskey in the backseat
of your car, the old CD’s
lying around my barefoot
lungs, as i paint with water
colour love, i have the
beat of my heart,
humming against my ribs,
the naked swath
of my existence, i have i have-
i have this: I’m alive,
I’m alive, I’m alive,

over city streets and
lamplight thrum,

so why wonder, in this
injected flash of space
and time, the arithmetic
definition
of living
with a purpose?