I'm everything.
I choose to display one to you
and I'm a mixture of
twenty nine others.
I am that gold
going from the inner lining of your mouth
to the outer curve of your thigh.
I am that water
that seeps from the roots of your hair
to the tips of your
already red ears.
I am that beaded purse
you carry everywhere.
I am that perfume
you hate to this day,
and wear daily—
and sniff daily;
as if to check if the scent has changed.
Or your tastes.
I am that mud
that gives your dreams fertility.
I am that chalk-faced vision
of your nightmares;
and the cool warmth
that soothes your nightmare.
You wake up everyday
from a nightmare,
into a nightmare.
So yes, my choice is dreams;
and to keep living in dreams.
Every time you pedal on a cycle
you see me.
Every time you wash your face,
in the mirror: you see me.
I'm everywhere.
I'm not in the box but I'm everywhere else.
You see,
I'm everything.