Zeno's best friend.

In the warmth of May
I learn to breathe
and I part, with regret
from the hibernation
of intent.

When I'm reintroduced
to Gravity,
the boy with the big boots,
I slide limply into the current
and watch my levitation
until it's out of sight.

When the blue flecks
unite me with my cousin,
the eel,
I wave to my strings
and promise I'll write;
I stay in touch.

I love all of these things
but
I wanted them
a few minutes after tommorow,
when I'm smoking in the garden
in a grey winter
that's five years old.