...Pearls of aspirin, chocolate bullets. Separate maladies in the time of cold weather.
It’s bad to want The Loved One. His name is Lord to me. Pressed into this world like a Roosevelt dime. Candles burn and I see him behind a splash of starlings. The Loved One does this deliberately. Wandering. He is a kite in the clouds. I am the good sailor of the lost afternoon.
Year of the Goat slingshots in to re-build itself. Year of the Want. I wanted to put my hand on him like a cameo. He is mine at dinner. I am constructed to have him. I am an accomplished study; I know my Queen’s thigh bone.
Slowly, slowly we are spinning upwards.
I am equaled in time and stillness only by the willow.
Impressions received by radio wave. His favorite lemon-colored, tie-dyed scarf.
I dedicated my summer nights to the excitement of his silvery star. I cast myself down outside his house. Always at his feet.
I knew his symptoms. I sent a whole pound of black licorice. I say that by way of embarrassment. Stealing, then exchanging these days. What a body! The “yes” I said in vain to it. Chocolate covered cherries given on a million occasions. Oh, white Nike. In an instant my mind is calling, and I want to huddle him in my arms and jump. I think I can handle it...