Fell in Love with You – John Grey

Jumped out of the plane
      with or without the parachute
dropped a cyanide tablet in sulphuric acid
       such fumes
rejoined the cables that had been accidentally disconnected
rested my head on a pillow of moss
glowed like fire in snow

traveled back and forth         through dangerous intersections
preached to my own still-to-be-saved soul
walked down the street bare foot
            kept everything that stuck to my heels
bought a stack of paper towels that were on sale
            had absolutely no use for them
swam in deep glade bog pools       at least imagined I did

smacked my lips   semaphored    tossed my hair   
heated and cooled  heated and cooled  heated and cooled
complicated everything further
bathed in a salt-spray frenzy
went alone to churches and museums      chanted under my breath
danced the old way           how my mother taught me
came to the bend in the road             bent my body to accommodate

kept some information to myself     dug a hole with the rest
picked Chinese parsley    added it to my soup
chose from the thousands     the object of my next abstraction
crushed cigarette butts on the floor of an empty nightclub
opened a large book of fairytales     immersed myself
            in the illustrations
pretended to score the music of warblers
waited in many different places for the answers to my unasked questions

revisited the entire concept of solitude
discovered this new fascination for the hollows of the bone
memorized the Greek alphabet
slid a picture of a yogi in lotus position into my wallet
idly knitted brass stalks together     
ran hands over the contours of revelry
wondered if flies sweat      if the air in Nepal is breathable
if a pocket turned inside out can still qualify as a pocket

I hugged everyone
I caught up on the gossip
I came up with a down payment
I did penance
I braked for a rabbit 
forged gemstones from hubcaps
spotted my guardian angel in a wine glass
no longer accepted applications
never once wondered how something as heavy as an airplane
            can stay airborne
or why jumping out at 4000 feet is as safe as a kiss
or why it doesn’t really matter if I’m wearing a parachute because
            it’s all about the falling

John GreyJohn Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published inThat, Dunes Review, Poetry East and North Dakota Quarterly with work upcoming in Qwerty, Thin Air, Dalhousie Review and failbetter.