7 July 2008

what i remember,

after the present crumbles away
to reveal only the ease of the past
and none of that
which we refuse to remember

i remember, that you like warm sleeping bags
and you followed me to the roof at dark
we were inside
and there was cold dew all around

we talked of evolution and socialism
and things we knew nothing about
but i did not tell you of my father

you said you felt inexplicably close

loco mono:
the small girl jumped in your arms
and your years plummeted
as you scaled the hospital wall
me, jealous and a little perturbed
i did not know how to react

i watched you
when we seemed alone together
in an abandoned park
and you mounted the playground

the first holiday,
i shoveled the snow in the impossible driveway
down, across, and up again
and my shoulder felt the repetition
i fell to my knees
in tears
believing that i could no longer go on
willing me no further go
knowing in a small way: the driveway was my future
with you
the weather was bad
you wished my doubts were acceptable

the next holiday,
i did not want you to sleep in your car
i did not want you to be homeless in my town
i did not want there to be another sign of impossibility
you brought me what i did not know i could have
uniting my favorite indulgence with accessibility
two cultures assimilated in a world we shared

in the empty room
it was impractical
later,
like a math equation with missing variables
unable to be solved
until variables were resolute

we held hands secretly underneath the pillow
and the sun shone
i spoke your name
simply to hear the sound
echo from my lips into the vast void
and you answered

we stood in a canyon with mounds of
frozen water beneath our feet
our breath made little cloud puffs in the cold, moonlit air

in the early hours of a winter dawn
in, to the canyon again
i looked like i was seeing you
i saw the way the thin folds of skin bulged
slightly underneath your eyes
the way that your nose ran when it was cold

in a quiet house,
you accidentally told me you loved me
forgetting the reply

like any other day i just went to work
and like any other person
you dropped me off
in a circle
like any other time

but pulled me back
and told me again
the force of the pressure
the obviousness of the mishap
made you say it again
attempting to convince yourself and me that you meant it
and then kiss me again

i ran for miles
the pounding of my feet against pavement
listening to the same song again
and over again
the intimate monotony of a chord progression
no one else could hear
i followed the sound that was directed only to my ears

when it was belated
i remembered
what i had ignored
my stomach and the rope
tied in figure 8 knots
i was helpless

in a chair
side by side
in a library
like any other pair

but a new place
to which i required orientation to the exit

i told you again, i said i really do
in your arms i did not want to leave
and you sat on top of the garbage can
as i drove away
like it was any other day