I’m acting like a fool because
I want you to love me
You do, but you don’t
How unoriginal a story
How counterproductive in function
A defiant clock ticking backward
Waiting in this solitary lake
Pads of fingers wrinkle
I study the fading moon above
Feel an alienation of self below
How dexterous the imagination of a restless mind
A seeking body and desperate hands
If life matters and if I matter
Can you care in a way I understand?
Where I don’t need to probe it out of you
Shaking loose change from an old denim jacket
Happiness isn’t something to hunt for
It’s not in the scalloped sky or ribboned trees
It’s not a fresh bloodied kill
It’s not for the taking
It captures you
We had our ripened adventures
Clamoring Indian cities and starving cows
Bubbling hot springs in Thai mountains
Road trips and hammam on Turkish soil
Ejected from Saint Petersburg
You evaded the war
But kept it inside
At home you contract in the corner
Until you disappear
A speck of dust
Before you expand toward the light
Invisible but everywhere
You travel the road that leads away
Into another’s lacy thong
Into another’s open chest
Into another’s weary life
I’m not chosen
Forced to weather the chill alone
A Siberian winter in mid-July
It snows inside
Grief smothered in white
I am not an object of desire
I am desireful
Only love can make me this stupid
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