A Few Loose Thoughts on Why I Come By Myself Instead of Holding It Down, Holding Out Until I See You Again

Never does it make sense.

Not like equations, not like rubrics.

Not longitudes, latitudes or destinations.

Seldom happens. Rare vertex of an hour.

Twitter of furtive hubris.

But when I’m alone, guey,

Knuckles on end,

Sun punching through a window,

Whole globe suspended, and

I’m huffing,

Stroking myself wild.

I whisper your name to the sink.

--

--

Call you that. Call you other things.

Blame the mirror.

Blame the heel of the heart.

Blame hope, that paunchy puppet, that whale.

Never does it fail.

Infallible as thistle.

Mangled as gators--roadside, futile.

Trust me, vato.

Come spurt loosely down the drain

Instead of saved or eaten.

Spout like truth onto your chest or belly

or leg, if ever you allow me to.

Doesn’t make sense, but what’s right

Isn’t always proven so, isn’t always convenient,

Isn’t always proud.

Blame the mirror.

Blame the marrow.

Blame my ganas, verve of a decoy, that eel.