Internal Rhythm

1.

His knuckles have become thicker
His voice caresses more adeptly
He has finally learned to kiss
and cook asparagus
and to contain his rage in public

A universe still swirls inside him
infinite with possibility
He puts it in ordered columns
by day
but at night he dreams of the ocean's chaos
He becomes dark, cool, wild
responding to an unpredictable tug
from every direction

In his dreams he swells
and recedes
but not like clockwork
never like clockwork.