Please Inhale Deeply Before The Next Section Ends
Or Something Happened. On either the day before-
hand
or seventeen years ago. On the other
hand,
our
night before, I just don’t know. Ask me
again
sometime. Oh. On
the night before, our I do. But
I do doesn’t
remember (therefore, I don’t). Realiz-
that
this is such child’s play, I decide to make an
entire
career out of it. A lifetime career, so
to speak
or
write. A lifetime, just to cut it short
(despite its
length [which is always long, relatively speaking]).
So, I
make a career out of this, which is nothing
at all. It’s
so very easy. I just close my eyes as if
all of it happens. And even though it takes forev-
(cf., “relatively speaking”), we wonder if any of it ever
happened. Or if we made it all up. And if we are to
(eventually,
or perhaps inevitably) discover that we
made it all up, does it go about happening nonetheless?
Like
the light of the neon sign from the hotel dire-
ctly across the street from our apart-, the light
that burns
into our closed eyes each night, be-
aming through
the bedroom window and
down onto the
us, onto the bed I just now
made up for you; over
us, lying incessantly
atop our be-, in the bedroom
of the apart-
building in which we
sleep and(/or, as proof
would suggest,) we have slept and slept.
Over the bed I made up just now. For
you (and for you alone), we await a sign,
each
in our respective place (which is not
lying
and is not on the aforementioned bed)
that
burns into our closed eyes. At night.
