Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.



Monday, February 9, 2009

Once, I said (EH)

Once, I said


I was drawing you a map to my brain

but you gave up navigating

halfway through; 

I sort of pity you for that. 

You can’t find that gnarly shit

on Google.


My love for you is like slamming

two fingers in a car door and letting

the latch catch.


And somewhere in there I realized

“You can sleep in my bed,”

meant sleeping alone.


I was your television and I guess

my exotic programming grew

repetitively indecipherable.


There is no thesis here except

that you have hurt me.

There is no resolution except

to cut off those trapped fingers

and walk.

But even now, I am unsure.


Once, you said

our touchless intimacy was wasted,

but I don’t find myself a fool

for thinking that getting 

us through those few long nights 

was enough.

My cracked bones and split

capillaries hold memories that would itch

post-amputation.




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