THE TAOISTIC JAGUAR

The clouds gathered and formed one little spot at the edge of the sun.
I ran home.
Acres of pine needles collapsed on top of one another;
Windmills—activated by waterfalls.
Zenith lucidity.
I was running home.
My arms feeling like wings.
My hands, cutting through the air like propellers.
My body lifting.
Lighter and lighter.
Elevating, floating
Only the tips of my toes touching the ground.
I ran home to you.
I came home to be with you.
To place my affection coolly in water.
Sipped slowly.
I ran home
But you weren't there.
I dejectedly looked out in front of myself.
Under ceilings,
Behind furniture.
And beyond fences.
I had run home to be with you but you weren't there.
I had misunderstood our relationship.
I misinterpreted love.
Quiet touched me on the forehead.
Passive kissed me on the lips.
I believed I could never hurt
And hurt rushed in.
Assaulting me, tossing me backwards.
I fainted…
…and…
…there you were,
Catching me.
Landing on what felt like a trillion feathers,
That were your arms.
You had run to me as I was running home to you.
Carelessly, I was looking forward, trusting you were gone.
When you were behind me…
…home.

Rick Nicolet is a writer and a producer in Hollywood.

Email: Rick Nicolet

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