High on the couch with exploding
wind; the air at the ceiling having
found its depth or its relationship
to the floating furniture (incongruity
like TNT, which is how easy it is
to fall in love with the “wrong
person”). Never a dull moment,
looking a lemur in the eyes. As
if to say “I am right here with you.”
Or “Just yesterday we exchanged
places—I saw things ‘the way I
always wanted’—and today each
expelled breath sinks to the bottom
of the lake that used to lie in torpor
outside my living room window.”
