When infinity stirs my cup

Hobbes lifts his tiger finger

like he’s trying to touch

the part of the sky

that still remembers me.

Infinity sits above the buildings,

folded like a patient animal.

Waiting.

(I keep forgetting to look up.)

Most days:

keys.

cups.

screens.

Small doors I walk through

without entering.

But - anchors.

Unread books breathing

against each other.

Words drifting in blank headspace 

Tea swirling itself like they’re practicing

a new kind of gravity,

My shadow at lunch walk

tries on different futures.

I don't write unless something

tugs.

Today it was a song.

The Great salt lake

By band of Horses

Playing on my phone

lifting my ribs like blinds

with a gentle hand.

Last week emptied me,

but chess with one friend,

a book shared with another—

these little exchanges

stitched me back

with thread I didn’t know

was still attached.

How long adults

get each other—

Before the calendar

becomes

a gatekeeper

But today

a small circle

open, soft and bright,

and I remember:

even the quietest lives

grow wild in places

nobody looks.

Even I

still feel alive

in the middle of

the most ordinary day