it’s about what you think
and how it drips out of your
forehead in confident drops
and tip-toes down your face
too small for you to feel
and it’s about what they think
and about how they smile when
they think it
and as their smiles grow there
are a million grating shreaks
growing, too and it sounds
like pulling a rusty rake across
a rusty tractor
in an aluminum barn
it’s about caring
it’s about how you’re all wrong
and i’ve stopped offering corrections
stopped giving out tours
to the lake from which to drink
only
if you’ve learned what direction
we took to get there
no one has ever made it
there and back
except
for those of us with coke-
bottle eyes
then
then
everything is far too clear
and there is water everywhere
everywhere
that you are not
the sieve and the sand 
deep. and very different than my reasons. mine is as simple as the fact that i choose to look forward in fear rather than back in thanksgiving…
but your reason is more poetic. also… if i stop exercising or i live in a place without sunshine for 4 years (like i did until 2 years ago), or my protein levels get low…
wow… all of a sudden i’m realizing i have a lot LAME reasons for anxiety…
but when that right person is there, you’re right. it all goes away.
I guess, in this one way, my anxiety benefits me (it being poetic).