pick me up love

there is something about his eyes

Seven layers of blue.
i know he loves me but what can i do when
i am here,
dream of dark caves
and ghosts,
have a heart slippery as a
Zapotec fish?
i fumble with spoken words
my tongue twisting awkwardly

so i write at 3 a.m.
summoning songs,
instead of sleeping.
"winter was never my season."

i have climbed Thunder Mountain and seen beyond the Chilkats to Mount Fairweather on a juneau day
jumped off cliffs and held a boy’s hand underwater in Greece
rappelled down a ravine and swam in cold Switzerland mountain pools
excavated ancient jade jewelry in the jungles of Belize
dived out of a plane over Catalina Island.
my life
like an article in National Geographic
complete with fold-out pictures.

how do i reconcile this spirit with a boy 
from Cincinnati, 
who paints dragons and Chinese skies 
on his walls
content to draw his dreams
instead of living them?

i know he loves me 
but what can I do 
when there are seven layers of ice
under seven of blue?