On the leap day
Of the leap year
I step out
the front door
while concurrently
Asserting my
non-existence (daringly[?])
on the bed. On the
leap

Day,
(My first in four years)
I con all my conclusions
And dissolve my disillusions
in eye widened awe
of the rain
under
the awning
(on leap days and[/or] Long Island
it rains sideways)
today is broken into moments of
blinding amazement at
something so simple as
exhaling
and how close it is to whistling
Yes,
we all breath music
We naturally harmonize
on Leap Days, we

Don’t.
Along with the gained wild child-hood
of this day
I’ve also lost a basic understanding of
sounds and shapes
And have found my slouch
pulling me
earthwards
to Crawl again.
Dazed.
On the Leap Day
I don’t understand
Anything.

Which lends itself to
believing in magic
But unfortunately flips
the horizon. I’m
upside down now
I’m caught in the ocean
And all my answers have become
Shrimp.
Which are very hard to find when
it’s just you in the ocean.
On a leap day. Or

any-
When I become five years old
When everything has new meaning
but also
No meaning.
At all.