Walk across, no, skip across, no, dance across a varnished floor
because of vehement passion or a whimsical thought, or curiosity, or…..
And where you step, the floor will bloom proverbially
to better embrace your gasping life (your life which is too alive for earth’s current amount of oxygen).
You may open your drawer of melancholy… or your cabinet stuffed with mischief… or feel under your bed for that extra song…
and it will all become you. Can’t you see…
As the floor extends its genuflections, and the walls bend toward your magnetic heart,
You make the oxygen fresher
You sprinkle the world (i’ll help you flood it)
With bouncyponderingbrilliantlythoughtfulglorious joy.