What is a gift?

“Lover You Should’ve Come Over” and every single person that covers it.

This body, as broken as it is.

My magnolia tree

and fresh bread

and good butter.

Mark Rothko.

The intersection in front of Mother India,

and the beautiful fragrance I can smell

while stopped at the red light.

The way you love me.

Public swimming pools

and tall elm trees.

The sharp stiffness of a guitar string.

A day without self-doubt.

Color photography

and the color blue.

The way romance languages fall on my ear.

Questo, solo questo.

A quilt with patches identifiable from childhood.

Pillbox bugs and their slow movements across my path.

Discovering the name of something you love.

Reuniting with a friend after a long period of time.

Acting chops.

The return of blooming roses.

The height of a cathedral nave.

Leaving and being able to return.

A freshly opened jar of peanut butter

or bottle of perfume.

Corn, thanks be to Ancient Mexican Culture.

Local Natives

and tacos

and shrimp.

The smell of the ocean and the sting of the sun on the sea’s horizon.

Finding out that you are not alone.

Perfectly crushed ice.

A dandelion, plucked and given lovingly.

The word sustenance.