January 10, 2012

Looking Through.

Always, I see the red cap you used to pin to your hair
on the train
or more often,
in the teeth of the homeless man's dog on
7th ave.

After the first time
I promised I'd love you in process
after the second,
I said I'd listen to the mundane details
happy
for the rest of my life--

Others,
well I did to them too
myself,
arranged in neat lines
and divided whole.

Deeper into you
a dead sea dive.

Gives me--
meaning
gives me
happiness
gives me--
what.

Stop looking through
something
like water
all shook down until it became
a blurred truth.

Oh Babylon!

I've lost what life is really like,
consumed with how it ought to be.