Tree bark

I’ve not been able to hold onto time lately
which is a double/edged thing;
there’s no tight-squeezing-breathlessness
but there’s no grounding either,

so I feel ready to spark with the night
and ride air currents during the day,
sort of dangerously comfortable
loving with abandon.

What that means in the real world
is I walk in less of a hurry and move
with the comfort of a screen door
allowing in the summer breeze.

My use of metaphor has not improved
but I am so alive to the possibility
my skin will finally fit like tree bark
and that I can be happy letting go.