Saturday, January 25, 2014

The night I came to see you in seattle

It seems like as you do not pick up the phone and
the little chips of moments go by the ribbed song
of you,
not picking up and saying,
Hello,

lies longer, like so much
measuring tape but

I don’t mind that you are not saying
Hello, not much, I don’t
mind much,

because I love you and it is enough to love you all years love
you ‘Not So Much To Be Loved As To Love’ you,

you were:
Very sad.
Listening to music you called it angry
punk rock music,
drinking a box of wine you called it wine,
holding my hand we walked for one
splintered block in Seattle because
it is the city than you live in now and it is
your city and I am your the-girl-that-loves-you.

And we had sex in a very thin bed which felt
very high off of the ground of the second
floor, and when you fell asleep I smiled,
and when I started to fall off of the bed I said
move over a little, but I didn’t mean too far

so I put my arm around you,
I put my arm around you,
I put my arm around you.

You said memories with your cheek on
my breast on the couch in the room big cold
I put my arms around you

I put my arms around you.

You wiped my body with a towel I
put my arms around you.

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