negative space

bukowski says what we know is in what we don't know.
I know organic chemistry, the feel of rain on my skin, the smile I wear at a party, the way
I hold my pillow at night,
imagining the contours of the muscles
it doesn't have.

I know how to run a seven minute mile and the feeling in my lungs (pantpantpant) after I stop, the
smell of my skin, the gleeful look in my eyes
a little girl proving to her father that she can do it just as well as he does.

I know how to see through jungle rains, how to just
give in and let it take you over, covering you
in wet.

I know how to smile and cry together, and I know the hanukkah prayers (Baruch a'tah adonai, eloheinu), even as a
shiksha.

I don't know how to do a shot of everclear without coughing.
I don't know russian, how to fix my roommate's boy problems, or how to close my eyes and jump.
I don't know how to drive a stick on the highway.

(I can scale a building, but I can't be fearless.)
(If bukowski's right, we're all dead).