Here I am at the cemented steps swirling up to your door frame.
The air is stolid, shifting in bricks
on the way to an asphalt streetscape
I drink some ‘57 scotch which, as always, is my excuse for this bravado
and leads me, cemented and drunk, to have screamed your name and to feel its vibrations pushing
In. The streets look for your answers. or me. I have
dropped pennies in every cup for your name. spoken dead languages to find you. It’s
not my fault you don’t exist.
It’s not my fault this scotch has rested. on my blood cells. on me. I tear
through it. them. as
my vicarious neurons sipped on poisoning and already forgotten your face now
light years almost ago. and the man I first begged
scratched at his neck and described your narrow hips. & telling.
Who would have thought that I’d be here. nothing
To live for besides you. everything
to risk. I’ve rung the bell, smoked through a pack and you’ve arrived, white washed in this glorious frame. The smells combine and I reach your door. Your breath floated
Up in the shifting bricks and gets heavier. now
more than ever before?
Not that closeness made me weak. Fidgeting in my summer night coat
eyes penetrating through the wall into your bedroom
& focusing in on you. Not that I did. Your body is young yet not so restless. Seventeen. who was going to have to go, careening into literary words. so.
to feel. & to never forget you could outsmart me and reach further and imagine
so to go. Not that I would leave you, who from very first meeting
I would never & never continue to ruin you and drag you
into the crazed atmosphere you prayed for & so demanded
To find & who will never leave me. not for letters. nor words.
nor even your perfectly structured sentences of insanity which is
Only our human lot and means you win. No. not loss.
There’s a song “Tiny Vessels”. but no. I won’t do that
I am invincible. When will I die? I will never die. I will live
To be here. & I will never go away. & you will never escape from me
Who am always & only a fragment of your air. despite this buildup of tar. Spirit
Who lives only to destroy.
I’m only wrong. & I am sorry. & I didn’t choose to wind up
I came into your life to throw these stones
And never hit your glass
Running for the opposite direction
I’ve left your landscape broken & shattered. You lost fate. nevertheless
I ruined this and can’t think of any other place to be other than this room
The world’s tension builds until you say it’s okay.