Each person is a miracle.
Each butterfly you watch fly
through your body.
For that is what happens.
You are the transparence of the world.
They cross through you as you watch.
It took me millions of years to get here.
Thank you, millions of years.
You push me forward as waves
around the shoulders of my parents
when they held me up in the ocean.
When they were younger than I am now.
Younger than me and gone,
they cross through my body,
walking across the beach
towards the motel that is also clear
as all years in the butterfly’s mind.
As it flirts with your hair, crossing
your ocean, the butterfly feels weirdly safe.
It knows you are its diary.