The Distance Between My Ears

 

The distance between my ears,

is sometimes a great chasm of

bottomless terror,

or a happy little skip over a

simple crack in the sidewalk.

 

There’s a lot going on in that

space between my ears,

fireworks of furious capacity,

melded with dribbling brooks of thought

over rocky riverbeds.

 

Civilizations of imagination rise and fall,

between my ears, under my

scalp, below my hair,

growing and dying,

in minutes.

 

Timelines,

playing out in my own

self-contained Universe,

amid the actual Universe,

whose seconds count for nothing.

 

Fears, joys, lusts, loves,

lies, prides, satisfactions,

dissatisfactions, annoyances,

anxieties, all jostling; elbow to elbow,

ear to ear, as it were, in that space.

 

I enjoy this personal space,

between my ears,

it’s a wonderland of impossibilities

and irrationalities, of simplicity

and complication, memory, and regret.

 

The lumpy, wrinkled space between

my ears, is me. It’s where I am.

Where everything that is me resides.

Except for now, when I’m in your

space, between your ears.

 

You might want to dust in here.