4:56 a.m. train. My empty suitcase. I wait hunted by memories of me.
“Forget yourself,” he said, pushing record on a tape player. He films unrehearsed wrong dream. (And to think that you could recreate it ad-infinitum.)
Listen to the structure fall apart….
d
r
o
p
KITchen,
bED,
HALLway,
SHA-k-ING. Pretend it makes no difference if I look away.
He captures you in the kitchen. It is just a memory. Symbolic of everything that will fade. This is how we pass, like we weren’t even here.
It is now. Red-rock landscapes. Yet, already ,look into the camera. Common word for: take away the dessert, the rocks, but not the snow from me.
Take away the sky,” I yelled against the wind. He said nothing back except, “Once again, nothing changed. I wish I could belong.”
The silence.
The moment,
Remains.
I wept,
I wanted
His hands.
Still
My breasts.
Yet
Already.
Years together.
This is not another way to look away from us. Still gaze, still sail, still drift. When I was brave ‘don’t fence me in’ was my song. Now I live on one thought, one human being. Milk and honey. The thought is, on another side, too sour… “connection” is just a word. Which word? Place me on your tongue. Realize a human being is me, a me, the me, in relation to you. My fingers trying always trying, beating: A lifetime spent to create the murmur of cottonwood trees.
Wake to the thin moment between tenses of mind.
“Eat me up or grow up and blow away.”