Three-hours and $300 in legal fees
into working on a resolution for my nonprofit
to add “Inc” to its name in order to complete
a filing with the State of Connecticut,
I step to the window, standing there
like a bruise in a shaft of light, and laugh.

A coyote, lazing on a distant hillside, laughs too.
The orange tree in my front yard shakes
its head in the breeze.
And in our swimming pool, the same breeze
tickles the waters, which join our neighbors
in giggling.

What I want is to be lost in thought, for my
weary synapses to breathe you in
and wash away the day’s fruitlessness.

Deep inside life’s bureaucracy, there is a room
that looks like any other room. Many pass it
every day.
Knock and it disappears. Look it up
in a database and you’ll see “No Results Found.”
Fill out all the paperwork in the world
and your request for a map will go nowhere.

But you know the way. Follow the laughter.
Meet me by the window. Our lives have meaning
on their own,
but they only make sense when,
like hands or vines, they intertwine.