On Seeing "Field of Dreams"

It is one of those times
I cry. Almost like
a belly laugh but
somehow
has to do with sorrow.

I am flooded with language
like a storm. So many
alterations, worries lifted
but vacuums in their places
and streams of wetted
time, climaxing into past.

I don't know why
but I wail want, primally
terminally. Thoughts of death
and goodbye jerks,
images of faces ghost over
length of life strings. I cry
as if I were laughing.