I spend my life trying to close my hand

over a token and keep it

an apartment

a talent

cold rain and dry feet

perfect pitch, quarter tones

my cats

peace

the warm sun with no burn

cool shade without the warm sun with burns

clear nostrils and the loose wet air from the end of a downpour

all money, free experience

joy exuberant

the soft crying of repentance

an idea that's good

self importance

freedom and identity wings of a pigeon slap against each other

recovering from a tall fall

I spend my life grading at time

a time

and times

I keep for now and at the end of my life

my fingers open

and release