There have been some few words of

Desolation and

The black holes through space came sparks.

What did we

Come through wires,

Tiny sparks blown sky high miles and miles I’m done with

Waiting.

I saw the face through the glass

Screwed up in concentration,

Two coins,

That might be all it takes.

if you know

it’s alright.

What he knows is the feeling,

Waiting with his hands shoved deep

in the pockets of his

Anorak,

Winter in cold maine,  on the stoop,

(Let’s be laden with snow and

Fond, hurting memories)

 

There’s a bowl, cold cat’s food,

(Here, I have eyes,

I run on my own when you leave

Doors ajar)

He’s not fond of it,

But

He’ll put up with it for the light when the

Screen door creaks open.

This is the kind of man who has a wife, and a child and an apartment. Works a lot, works hard, no white picket fence, but this is what the American dream seems like to me. This is what he feels like, his voice and his body and crooked teeth.

It scares me, and I escape like a rabbit, but carefully. There is no remembering what I say, making my exit.

He struggled

The smell of air leaving, the sound of coffee and cigarette,

The pinch of loneliness—(a little hook behind the bellybutton).

The sight,

(not the feel)

of coins on a solitary little plate.

He struggled,

Fought the straight line of poplar trees.

World,

Sun drenched and spinning, she tells me

You survive me, dig

Your toes deep into earth and

Saturated soil,

Hold on tight, she tells me.

Today I imagined

that living with you would be something,

Like two cats, we’ll be domesticated late in life,

how can meals cooked at home in love,

stop our nightly roamings?

But we can still live like people do,

announce our comings and goings,

sleep on even sides of one familiar bed.

i’m thinking about you endlessly.

you turn

gooseflesh in the summer breeze,

watching the flowers bloom and fade.