It’s strange, the things / that make you want to live
The night you didn’t kiss me I felt inexplicable
urgency to finally / make that eye doctor appointment
There’s something here / about blindness
as metaphor / Sometimes what people love
more than being in love is feeling
like part of a story / I want to write something
so beautiful it will make me believe / in pizza again
I want to write something with false
& monstrous wings / that has never known you / I wrote
you a letter & quit my job
to rewrite it / I wrote you a letter
& then forty years later forgot
who you were / Your eyes are so blue in a way
that doesn’t even matter / You looked
right through me like you were harvesting / ice or uncovering
a well / Well, it’s easy to be selfish
when you’re not standing / here like so many flutterings
of atmosphere / By selfish, I mean wanting / when there are so many
other ways to be / What great weariness
all of this is / I could not be empty if I tried
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