& i am the only one who ever wants to talk about this. say: can you hear her? just listen—

can you hear her here? & here: road-mapping a neon sky & gravel tongue, a total eclipse

in ’83. say: everybody knew everybody then, & boy, how everybody always rolled through.

 

say: but don’t you go lookin’ for her—say: no, no, no, no, no, no, no—she comes to you—

 

bonnie, i am happiest when i forget that i have a body,

& i’m sure there is a word for this—

 

but most days, i think i know too much;

most days, i’m convinced that i don’t know anything, at all

but mostly, i look at old photos of myself & i think—

 

that is the face of a child who knows that she will grow

to never sleep—

 

bonnie, i am always trying to write a better poem. bonnie,

i am always looking for a more graceful exit than the one

that i was promised.