i never kept what wasn’t given to me, never felt anything but a need to be absolved
of sins i would yet commit because the DSM said it would be so. in the living room
we made a map of our future with perforated dreams and an inkwell of our sweat–
that winter was over by the time the cigarette smell finally faded from the porch
and you left me for limbs that looked like mine but weren’t, almond-eyed lampshades
that flickered on and off while i sat tonguing the electrical outlet, thinking about
how i don’t know love only obsession, how your hip bones were two poles i sailed
between with my teeth, how you may go around the world–but remember it’s just a circle.


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