I.

the holdfasting. the dreams spent together in outer space. i could have licked you from head to toe. only i ran out of majesty. right before the end. right before your achilles heel. i could have baptised you in saliva. rendered you invulnerable from becoming something else. when i didn’t want you to. you were my hero. but you had one weak spot. unfortunately, that little bird knew of it, and told the enemy. and now look at you. broken and beat. and i guess i’ll have to be the one to pick up the shield and carry on. carrion. the lone dogs coming all together now in packs. on the outskirts of town. the jackals. the pariahs. the small ones. the ragged places. cowering in corners. waiting for our day to come. come all over us.

white water down as we descend to the underworld. wearing little crowns. and guppies swimming and flapping all around. us and our thorns. and our sickles. harvesting roses. bound to teeth. choked off from eating. though blossoms are said to be delicious. we can only dream of what it would be like. the tonguing. in the garden. with both eyes closed. under sickle-cell shaped moons. dolmen benches. locked lung-in-lung. lingering in solitude and saliva. slipped into a coma waiting there for you. for a minute. for a moment. i could have rode the subway up and down all night to find you. all the lines lead straight down to the city of dis. it was a pleasant place. all street lights strewn with skulls. grinning red, and green lights all burnt out long ago.

II.

i keep a lighter on my desk. right next to the computer. in case of emergency. in case i need to burn my lips off in the middle of the night. you never know what might happen. would it be weird for me to tell you i love you? would that mess everything up? what does it matter, anyway. unicorns cavorting in the moonlight. wading waist deep in waste-water. when you climb out, you’ve got to stain your shorts with sunlight. blocked out by the atmosphere right around your head. a tiny model universe rotating inches away from your scalp. it could be pretty good. and devastating. if you closed your eyes, put your mind to it, and unleashed that final furtive big bang. big bands. bad bandstands. handstands in fields by the river bed. tumbling over backward in alarm. as the raccoons approach us. like wild-eyed beggars of the woods.

but instead i wrote her an eloquent letter. or at least, i thought so. it said everything important left between us. and in the writing of it, i softened towards her. and finally understood better what stood between us. blossoming. slowly unfolding. pockets turned inside out. revealing no money and no hope. and who needs either. we could just keep walking. because they won’t ever catch us. it’s as easy as walking away. saying goodbye enough. i’m a week away from retiring. i’m weak with sickness and hunger because of it. i’m sprawled out on the hood of my car. waiting for something to hit me. last week i saw venus in the evening, hanging just underneath the waxing crescent moon. it was beautiful and mysterious. and seemed important. and reminded me exactly of how i felt about her. but it was just now. in a down jacket. unzipped and hung up on a peg by the door. that it all really came to me. the way she stood by fire hydrants. the way she brought wetness from the heavens. to come and fold its arms around us. like locusts. but friendlier. more fiery. i could have touched a thousand individual letters of the alphabet. arranged them in rows of 10 each. and then counted down backwards, removing every fifth consonant. i would have been left with no less complete an understanding of you. and your comets. and stars and things. and the way you spread your wings. in too small a space. an antique car parade coming down my street. will all the kids run out of the way in time? it’s too early to tell. beyond the shadow of a doubt. in the valley of the shadow. in the places where the long things lie waiting in darkness. in the shallow places where the vigorous, yet strangely timorous things are watching. gripping their hands. and toes. long toenails curling slowly inward in the fog. they could have grabbed us. but they didn’t. and they probably never will. they are blowing up a balloon shaped like a man. i heard they plan to send it overseas. with all their hopes and dreams. like a candle on a coal barge. a tugboat roars out. “to the sea! to the sea!” it cries. let us all go down to the sea. where we’ll watch our selves fluoresce and steadily erode. we could surround ourselves with sandbags. we could pile high our possessions and pray that god might deliver us. from the sword of our own becoming. separate me from the wheat. and the chaff. roll me in the hay instead. let me run through the strawberry fields. where i can bow down. and lay in the grass. and feel myself upheld and supported against the sky-lines. the chemtrails coming to poison us. we could become sparrows, falling out of space. hitting the dirt and becoming trails through the wilderness. it could be a matter of corn on the cob. brushed aside and tossed out a smoke hole. in our cave. down in that place where we used to come to cry. it could be time for us to go back there. i’m almost ready to counteract. to counterattack. to undress and redress our grievances. it could be a costly affair. i could end up spending too much time in heaven. be beside me. i’m going to blast through this wall and see what’s on the other side of it.