Day 83.

Oh, freedom!
Had I not tasted you once or twice
On lovers' tongues, on cool sheets
In fresh mango con chili
Or floating nakedbaby style in warm oceans
And running in tropical rains, shorts plastered to my legs

 Had I not had flashes of
Thisisrealthisislifethisiswhatitssupposedtofeellike

Had I not seen you in the sprouts in my garden
Or felt you in the melting of my shoulders and the softness of my lungs
When hearing poetry or music or other forms of telling the truth to the whole room, all at once
And in the sounds of groups of people's eruptions into laughter

Had I not known, if just for one moment at a time, here and there
That you were possible, and that you were delicious

I wouldn't write these words. I wouldn't have a thing to say.
I wouldn't know to want you for myself and for all other beings.

Oh freedom!
What luxury to have tasted you
What privilege to tell the stories and say
"I've been there, it's real! We can go there, but only if we work together."