Henry Miller would’ve been
The author of me
If we were somehow
Written into being.
A 20th 21st century
Awkward heroine with anxiety.
If I could read my life with clarity,
With a croissant in Paris,
With a cup of tea,
The words of Henry Miller
Dripping with me,
Perhaps I could relax a bit
Knowing everything
Will have
A bit of
Light In
It.