What does it mean to be alive?
Is it a race thing? A sex thing?
An age thing? In that order?
Add place on in the space between race
And sex and you have a human?
No, you are forgetting Time.
Time keeps pace with all those
And throws in a few tricks of
The light. The lights.
This means you have me as I am now and not via the tracks I have taken and
The dust that’s fallen on former versions of myself, hanging up in
The gallery that is my life , is me,
My curation
My soul’s memories of myself and others and
I envy myself, the places I have been and the fun I have known – never alone, never unhappy,
Never a crooked smile, unless I request my deleted items be undeleted
Being Every Day 