Infinity

The funny thing about comfort-

It is limitless. Humans, though,

they have limits.

Shackled by human restraints-

fear, broke, apathy, hope-

my comfort is a fingerprint.

Comfort is found in the dips

and divots of a work week- lunch hour

with mozzarella in salad with cheesecake,

a forgiving breeze on sweat slicked cheeks,

a cold building in August, sweet tea and french fries

and frozen custard under the bough of a tree

in the Culver's parking lot before midnight.

Comfort is found in the cradle of the driver's seat,

dashboard lit and tires gently rolling as I pick at

something cheap and fast, ideas birthed in the midnight

fast lane, my favorite red chucks on my feet,

pressing gently upon the gas and break like organ

pedals, creating the symphony of freedom with

wind resistance and carelessly worn asphalt.

Comfort is found in the machinations

of blood and sinew- the biggest back cracking

twist, a night of deep and restful sleep,

the lingering warmth from hot tea in a line from

throat to sternum, the burn of rye whiskey

between your breasts, the purity of a

scrubbed clean scalp,

the hollow, blissful void in my abdomen

when the ibuprofen assassinates my cramps and

I can finally uncurl from that ball of agony, Christ-!

Comfort is found the the realms that lay betwixt Earth

and vast, endless universe- a cool night inviting me

to pull out a well loved hoodie, a gently glowing Moon that

accepts the kisses I blow at it, the smooth, cool finish of

ocean jasper in my palm, clicking gently

against the clear quartz I paired it with in my pocket.

My comfort can be mundane-

form twisted in blankets on my couch, the AC down to

76 in July, the smell of incense mingling with Fabuloso

scrubbed floors, fuzzy socks-

Or it can be grandiose-

$200 fragrance, a blanket set upon the green field just

near enough to see contorted faces belt out their souls,

a Moroccan mule and the warmth of sunset healing me

as I explore the World Showcase.

You know the best thing about humans is-

we can always change.

Our minds adapt, horizons broaden, and so

our boundaries- our limits- are reshaped.

Our definitions of comfort can change, and,

in those fluctuations and shifts-

isn't comfort something like infinity?