A niche-famous radio host described
the testimony of his interviewee,
the way that blood began to pool from the shark attack.
The Arrogant Bastard(TM), which had
passed you by an hour prior,
was still a little there, perhaps.
"Recite prime numbers,"
somehow who loved me said.
I did, but it wasn't as comforting as
she thought it would be. I had
to
escape... leave, so that
no
one
would see
me, as weak, as
I truly
was.
vulnerability,
nothingness, darkness,
and peace when I could not.
And the blood, released by the red-toothed corner
of the wall
in Zellerbach Hall
began to pool.
heavy with mistaken rain,
and felt moss, like wet carpet
from when I always forgot to
return my towel to the rack
next to the shower
to repeatedly bending knees.
Time was slow (comparatively).
it had been since puberty.
A kind man who might have
perceived my fear, but could not
parse my gratitude,
had been close to you.
I was shining, remembering
lies that I believed in.
one for each two steps,
fast - the inner friction on you
liberating the taste of
iron in my mouth
(and loving it) refined itself into a sheet,
an edge, a point.
The truth imagined in my heart,
I thought were realized
by a shivering hand.
I would realize the point was a foot higher,
The blade, a pinpoint that
liberated carbon dioxide.
And, when I needed it most,
my lungs were opened.
were the refined carbohydrates
that you embraced,
A true innovation
from troubled lovers.
The unclean flesh that followed,
or perhaps the acid beverage?
Was it the weight of a responsibility
I was never at peace with?
Or just the oldest and deepest
of my survival impulses?
blooming inside of you
from somewhere below
that I could not see.
The taste, undeniable,
palpable and wet,
signaled my first teacher,
and this time we held hands
and embraced her peace together.
"Decision time," they said.
It was Christmas Day, after all,
and there were many, for some reason.
for so long.
In my case, they said
it was rare for you to speak,
I was young. I was male.
And that they were not worried.
I was worried, perhaps
uncontrollably.
You were awake,
speaking, and in need
of space.
I waited weeks, months to hear you,
some said half a year, even after I cried out.
To see you, I entered a tube, a ring,
lied down on many chairs.
Two times, we took some part of you
to see what you were saying.
teaching the other teachers,
forcing them into new shapes
like the crook of the question mark
rising into my head
or at least part of you.
You will have more space at least.
Despite the heat and severe lack thereof
I have felt for and from you,
You have taught me the most,
by so persistently insisting
on impermanence.
I only hope I have learned well.