and his questions hung between us, a tableaux of what happens when we begin to think and the thinking becomes an obsession, and then suddenly there's you, and there's life, and there's everybody who ever loved you standing between you.
(here - the things you want. here - the things you need.
and there - me, arms crossed, ready to hold a line you walked over weeks ago.)
and he asked, why not?
as if i hadn't a dozen answers ready-made, made in china stickers still glossy from the factory where my hands shake from the exertion of keeping them moving.
your little china doll, i make beautiful things for you.
hah.
its -
(because i love you.
because i wake up at night alone, wondering where all the lovers have gone, now that the light isn't as dark as it used to be.
and only the glare of the stadium forever shining in through the window.
i miss the feel of your hands on my face, and i think, there are numberless universes out there where you are touching me, making love to me and whispering against my neck that you will never leave - you kiss me on the cheek as i fall asleep and your strange affections make me smile,
but i just happen to live in the one where you're not. )
and dear, do you remember when i told you i was doing this now because one day very soon i wouldn't be able to?
those were the days i woke to your face beside me, a dreamer's eyes closed against the morning glare.
how easy it was to be happy then, when i look back. and in the hours that you slept, i tried to memorize everything - the way your shoulders misalign, freckles pushing down and the scars. those wonderful wonderful scars.
who were you when you woke up then?
...
friends take my picture, cutting me into a face, a torso, legs. they take my words (kill your t.v.) and give me back a puzzle of limbs, a dozen varieties of person. they tell me i can be anybody i want to be.
they're beautiful.
i missed you the entire time.
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