Bright sunlight tap tap taps the keys of a piano, and when she spins it’s as if the world’s spinning with her, and it might just be that one day she’s nothing more than bones without a home, but in the here and now, she spins like a leaf in the breeze. Billowing like fresh bedsheets, she catches a lift on the wings of a passing butterfly, and as she clings on for dear life screaming at the top of her lungs, I’m not far behind. Cigarette in hand, I’m sweating out last night’s hangover, and not for the first time, I find myself on the brink of some existential crisis. I’m so close to death that I swear I can feel it breathing on the back of my neck, but all I have to do is hear her laugh, and my misery pops like a discarded bubble of thought. If you want the truth, I’ve been trying to catch her for so long now, and every time I get close, she slips away leaving me to stumble yet again, but the more I’m left hanging, the more I write about these fleeting moments that transform me from a bum into something half resembling a poet. The more these words of mine find their way onto the page, the less pain there is to remind me of all the things I am not. Dragging my heels as she floats on, I suck on my smoke and flutter my eyes, and although on the surface I’m a loser and nothing more, inside of me, there’s something I can’t quite explain. It’s she that led me here, and it’s why I keep chasing, for it seems that once you catch a glimpse of the other side, you get a taste that can’t be denied. Some would call it obsession. Perhaps addiction. Perhaps just plain ol’ madness, but as I skip after her as she darts through the streets on the back of her butterfly, the thoughts and opinions of others are as insignificant to me as the days I’ve chosen to leave behind.