love letter to amelia earhart

     What do you dream of, Amelia Earhart? Are you still floating in the 


    acid-wash sunset sky? Can you sing like a bird? Are you lost? Are 


        you waiting for me to find you?

I will come for you, I will cut through the fog and the 


    mountains like vengeful wind. I am fair yet unrelenting. I will help


you find yourself. Do you believe me? At night, Buddha comes to 


     my room asking for advice. I tell him to be fearless. Were you 


 afraid when you fell out of the sky?

When I went to the movie theatre they told me of Mickey Mouse. 


    The big yellow buttons on his shorts shone like ominous beacons


   into the night. The mouse was sly. He had ears like an elephant. 


        He looked like a God. All night he plagued me in my dreams. He is


    solid, unyielding, a fixture in time. I must be like Mickey, I must 


          be too heavy to overturn, and when unbelievers ask about my 


     high-calorie diet, my muscle-building exercises, I shall laugh like a


           prophet. Mount Rushmore will fall. The rivers 


      will obey me.

         Did the sun comfort your broken face? Do you shop to pass the


     time? The mall calls to me some evenings. It is no matter that I 


        have no money. It is no matter that my last coin has been spent 


       on corn dogs and caramel-saturated popcorn. World leaders will 


             respect me when they find out I can dance the Charleston. Does


          that surprise you? I can dance like a whirlwind, my bare arms and


             legs crying out in awe. Oh yes, I can fling my body around. I am 


                flexible. I stand tall and proud like an oasis. I find my way around 


         the hostile forest like a Boy Scout. I have never been lost. 

   Where shall I begin? I am lost now. I was at the library, skulking in 


      the corner like a bogeyman, breathing in the musty air, absorbing 


  dusty knowledge through diffusion. I saw you on a poster and your


       urgent eyes cried out to me. Your hair lay on your innocent 


   blooming head in soft questioning waves and my heart broke. I


        am sure you have cool soothing hands like Florence Nightingale. I


     must care for you like a mother bird, I will force twisting worms 


          down your beckoning throat. You will once again be whole.

 They say you were lost in time and deep water, they tell me the 


      last thing you saw was the Pacific Ocean rising up to meet you in a 


   heady rush of bubbles. Do you forgive the ocean? Do you dine 


         exclusively on seafood? I picture your eyes glittering as you hold 


   up a fork, your little mouth hanging half-open in surprise. Who are


       you? The North Star draws me toward you like a magnet drags 


   iron filings. There is iron singing in my blood and sticky wet fear


         pooling in my lungs. The skin of my mouth tastes like shame. 

       Sabbe satta sukhi hontu, I whisper through clenched lips. May


  all beings be happy. Amelia Earhart, how shall I be happy when 


    only silence rings in my ears? 

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4ifsnn/this_is_how_i_brush_my_hair/d30d95i

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4ipal5/dear_sophie_with_love/d30cjyh

I'm not at all sure how to end this one. Any suggestions? I don't like this but I'm forcing myself to post more often. Thanks! :)