it's autumn

 things i won't mention in casual conversation
 but will probably be thinking about the whole time we speak:

  •  the way your girlfriend at the time leaned against the wall awkwardly when your friend next to her told me i was beautiful, she said "yeah, you're just a firecracker, aren't you" like i did something wrong. i probably did something wrong.
  •  "it's the one with the most warning labels."
  •  the universal facial expressions & hand gestures most people make when their team correctly guesses their pantomime in charades completely embody how my heart feels when i see you.
  •  i vividly remember walking home in brooklyn one day in high school past greenwood cemetery with "harvest moon" by neil young on repeat thinking about whether or not it meant something that i sometimes die in my dreams.  
  • the x-ray technician told me i looked like his girlfriend in high school, i felt nostalgic, for which one of us i don't know.
  • about three or four years ago my therapist told me to make a timeline, make a timeline she said, because you have no idea whats happened, so how can you know what's happening now? last night in bed i thought: here where?
  •  i only go to see if you're there. 

    bangbang, i shot you down


    she was born in black water; light-less murky waters
    there were no boats but many people scattered, people sinking
    bobbing up and in, their arms waving like kites against a pitch black sky
    they noticed her glowing, her first breaths of life, this small creature
    she was handed to me by a stranger as the others were all drowning
    "i'll be right back" the stranger said and fled 

    and i knew that she was gone for good
    the infant grew really fast and she grew really pretty
    it was only five minutes later & she was already ten and long legs
    her hair was up, falling in her face and she said i remember it was night
    and the people were crying, i remember you humming
    and holding me, you were singing bob dylan to me in dark, dark water.

    the opposite of a slowpaced jog

       autumn is antsy and climbing up my legs.

    when i walked the clouds were all behind me, running away from this town and i didn't blame them, not even a little. the sun was a tired old dog with no leash, steadily trailing. 


    september.
    a conversation in which you strongly emphasize there is nothing left here for us to save. our eyes do not meet but our brains look at each other closely.

    -you, on the stairs
    -yes
    -love is an unquenchable thirst.