i saw them live
in Burlington. a woman
i eventually orbited
was at the show—months
before we knew
of each other’s existence.
i still talk
to her from time
to time, in fact just
yesterday sent her
a package of smoked
fish. we were (and
are) both
tremendous
in our mental illnesses;
we’d fight
and grip and break
and reassemble and
annihilate each
other. i sometimes
hate her. sometimes, love
her. she texts me when she’s
lonely. sometimes she
gets naked and asks me
for pictures. we are
both naked
in our need. i sometimes
hate that i still
orbit her, but also
not. life
is a broken yolk;
it’s likely i
waste its thickness
with sobriety and desire,
my sighing
foolishness. buddhism
and the muttering violence
of kindness. i
remember the religion
of oblivion, the dogma
of indifference, can
still taste it
dissolving on the corners
of my oblong tongue.
presque vu, some
might say, i might
say, if i could remember.
i think you’ll like
this band, the lead
singer is erotic like
you are. i know
you’re no longer
in orbit of music
as you once were,
i think this band might
pull you back. remember?
what you once tried to
remember? what was it
we were talking
about? why have i written
you?
zakschafer.com 