lost

cool looking stick

six blighted trees all in a row

tangled

mess

on the weekends I like to lie

in bed with your absence

rubbing

out the knots in my neck

checking

to see if you’ve appeared

but

still

no

I’m restless

and not doing anything about it

imagining horrible things

cutting

the pieces of rope that hold my eyeballs in their sockets

dropping

them into a jar

better now, better now

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year long one night stand

I needed

strawberries in the winter

prisms of sun on the mattress

after you left

me in your space hungover

craving greens

blinds dirty and broken

you hung

a tapestry instead

hard wind riding down Division

hard wind turning left

we used to ball our fists

inside our gloves, remember?

but none survived

none survived

chinatown

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waiting on the curb for your train to arrive, I saw a woman who looked like she came from another world. the cars, the people, the late afternoon sun all wound themselves around me so that I got lost. the best kind of lost. the kind where anything can happen, like you might turn into a bird or I might already be a bird or your train might come in like a fading purple summer breeze that brushes the hairs on my arms.

or it might never come. I hung in limbo hoping it would never come because once you got here it would be only one thing when I wanted it to be everything. but you did get here and you told me about an art museum you visited, and while we walked I drank sake from the bottle.

and we are not in love! oh, but what if? one, two, three more drinks and let’s pretend. stand closer. talk softer. breathe faster. let’s pretend. and I will go home alone tonight and sleep well because we have a small house by the sea where we watch the stars come out every night, and sometimes we touch hands, and most of the time we are happy. there are still some weeds growing in the garden on the side of the house but we will get them tomorrow because right now the stars are out and we are happy.