Poets and Dreamers

I have a friend from high school, Bill. We shared a creative writing class together and fancied ourselves poets at 17. I always had a crush on him, and thought of him as mysterious and dark. Ten years later, he still writes poems like a fiend, and he inspires me to do the same. So here's a poem for Bill.

here we are
cursing and spitting
teetering on a tightrope
no one told us we would have to cross.

to one side we fall
sinking sad into the past
with its longing and lament
only to pull ourselves up
and over
crashing headfirst with worry
speculation and grimey, grabbing fists
to an unknown future
not yet promised to us.

when there is balance
it is not balance
but quiet anticipation
of the falling and crashing
we set ourselves up for
again and again.

this is not life,
this is a circus.