A storm rolled in
And when you left town,
Saturday became a book.
I became a skeleton recently.
It’s all in good fun.
Closest my house, the gutter flooded the intersection
Electricity went out, and in the darkness
I turned into a bear. We all turned into bears.
By morning, I took to windexing the walls.
The neighborhood had a block meeting,
we talked about your shirts, how their seams
always looked like streets.
II.
All the imaginary conversations with you on the toilet
Remember when we were young I don't want to talk about December the 19th
And there was the ice storm They are so appealing from behind curtains
The city pool was ten minutes away by bike I'm busy listening to sad songs with my backpack on
I'll wear your sounds from this here chair They were so big then, so full of color
Hey remember I'm the guy Ya, in tea cups.
who brings inflatable's to the party
I might be busy tonight that would be great
Go to the forests if you must.
What if I turned into a bear in the shower? You like green things
I love you I think I love you too.
III.
We tried getting out of the house once
when we both learned how to pretend to be adults
Sofas lined the lawn.
The locks twisted.
Three Spaniards took turns with a hammer
nailing windows shut.
Mom calls, Is isolation boring you yet?
I say I can't talk now.
IV.
Farther behind you,
damn, before I walk out the door
before coming over
Ten years from now
years ago
remember
this space
here
one of those moments a vase turns into two faces.
V.
Mom gave me
among other things,
collect me like an ode
written on parchment paper.
intense if we could not talk
Game, how'd you like I love you this much not at all.
A room to wear.
Really, I don't mind dyeing
into floral wallpaper.
First, let me brush my teeth.
VI.
The willow in the back where we buried GIs
don't forget we had it to ourselves
collections
much talks of the Cuban Revolution of 59'
penny candy
Casey's General Store 44oz. styrofoam cups
laughing into soda bottles
on the back porch
when we had the world to plan out
on the back porch
when we had the world to plan out
there was art
VII.
As the weeks, then months passed, your life in my imagination evolved
You spent money on shaving equipment, the dermatologist told you to come back Monday.
You threw trees over your shoulder, drudged into the rain with claws like becks.
You had human eyes in there somewhere.
How long had you not seen daylight this time?
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