and the daily selection of hats

It is not the bite of jalapeno
or the random flutter of moths
that I miss most about being alive
nor the blue luminescence of my lover's skin
in reflected moonlight.

What I miss most
is the longing that woke me
with an unidentified ache of hunger
and the inexplicable pull towards
the West, into the open frontier.

I miss looking into the next moment
and claiming it as my own! Planting my
flag into the future, all mine to
move my hand across the page, to pull
my moustache smooth.