Between any two letters of the alphabet, infinity
Runs rampant, with fragments of letters, fractals
Like the paisley inside the peacock on the butterfly’s
Painted wing. The fractions closer to A are stiff:
Chutes, ladders, railroad tracks going in only one
Direction. As you edge closer to B, you find curves:
Buttons and bees, beer caps and tiny basketballs
Like the ones you see on TV at a bar, from across
The room. And you wouldn’t even be in the bar
Except for the L sitting next to you, rooting for
Her team. You root for her team too now.
Halfway between A and B, you find the square
Of the cocktail napkin, but also the ring etched
In water, the rectangular business card, but also
The number scribbled hopefully on the back.
More and more these days, I find myself
Attentive to middle spaces, littoral waters,
The city halfway down the coastline on the map,
The fourth of seven chakras, green like the leaves
Of the lotus blossom growing from my heart.
Other letters also litter the landscape: Q and P
And the letters of my name and after my name.
I will use them all to write this letter
To myself on learning how to be.