Sometimes
I miss
everyone, all at once. I miss you
even before I’ve met you and I miss you even more
once we’ve met and moved on.
I thought I knew what I was doing. I moved my arms, kind of
like this. In deference to you I moved them the other way
too.
Sometimes I miss everyone
all at once.
There is so much suffering here
in the desert, where his past and my past and everyone’s
past press up against me;
in the present where we are striated I mean where we are
given hope;
in the dream where simple erasure is not enough;
in this lovely dissonance, that is, this flesh that is just
solid enough;
in these stolen kisses that cannot be returned.
I miss everyone, everything.
There is so much missing. Sometimes
even the water rots.
