& i am the only one who ever wants to talk about this. say: can you hear her? just listen—
can you hear her here? & here: road-mapping a neon sky & gravel tongue, a total eclipse
in ’83. say: everybody knew everybody then, & boy, how everybody always rolled through.
say: but don’t you go lookin’ for her—say: no, no, no, no, no, no, no—she comes to you—
bonnie, i am happiest when i forget that i have a body,
& i’m sure there is a word for this—
but most days, i think i know too much;
most days, i’m convinced that i don’t know anything, at all
but mostly, i look at old photos of myself & i think—
that is the face of a child who knows that she will grow
to never sleep—
bonnie, i am always trying to write a better poem. bonnie,
i am always looking for a more graceful exit than the one
that i was promised.