my heart tapped me on my shoulder and whispered in my ear

which is how the night started

in a room across from home.

The K's tried to win a round

from a stance of plain unknowing,

which meant nothing to the seriousness

of their opponents calm throwing.

I cared not to play

save for Daniel's carefree dancing

and E and B were just a fit

of amusing teammate fighting.

Fighting. I am fighting

an undefined category of more adult feeling.

I know that I am not unhappy,

but I do not know, concer to Spanish,

the feeling that we define as happy.

But if this is what it is,

feeling free to display feeling.

Then, I think I can do happy.

I think I can live happily.

When a world of bright lights

on curtained hardwood stages

is vacillating between being safe and tumbling

the scintilla of hope contained

in my uncategorized responses

is supported only by friends

who are closer than I imagined.

I gave effort to looking

straight into Bill's eyes,

but entropic tears blurred

already clouded sight.

Fingers trembled in inch long hair

and then he hugged me.

Apoyar- to support.

Amor is to love,

Romantic in Spanish.

In English to love

is being fully supported.