I am thankful
that I am not
you are what I could not be and partly remain
If I hadn’t fled and turned my back to
the inevitable crush of destiny, spinning on roulette table
the soft nape of cloth worn by dice
For years I regretted leaving myself behind
and those few memories not slicing
at my veins
but your life
engenders mindfulness
and I am
so relieved
This feels good
the city of our frying was so hungry
It wanted to devour youth
to sake itself on the fervor of the anointed needy
how anyone has the endurance?
how you do?
I have no idea
As I scaled my escape with trapeze skin shoes
the Harlequin came back from her exile in the countryside
the sequined one didn’t see how the city ate us up in little spoonful
she whose cheeks were red with fresh air, wanted so badly to return, throw her hunger at the crowd in fistfuls
and that’s why we crossed wires, finally hanging-up our respective ends
But you
puzzle me like the last page of a much creased book
I relate to your merciless sober tilt
a shared connection that runs the length of our separation
how the rest of your life will bid
you are when we’re not talking
how the world sounds through your ears or looks through your eyes
I feel you must have
you must be a new
in a large loud give
and that frightens me more than it should
considering once
I almost walked in the same buckled shoes
What made you stay?
and I leave?
what helps you imprint this life and nourishes the void I feel
imagining I had never left and still to turn the page
such terrors seem to separate us
beyond what could reconnect
proof perhaps
of the strength of the heart
to defy
grow fond of