08 June 2011

true is true
is true

motel bathroom  soaking wet    the football notch on the old rust belt 

  i remember how it felt
                           how it feels
 how much hurt it takes to
 make it   real

you heard me norman    anyone but her

                   not    her
i tossed and turned  

and loathed the snoring that kept my mind   to her    on   her  

high expectations    lack of divine                                       
 the jacobean confession

don’t want to stand in the way   be in the way me in the way   but this   this is exactly the kind of thing that leads to high stakes in the great lakes   oarless lifeboats  
               heads at or below    
 waterlines   don’t even think ‘it’s fine’ 

it’s not
              the struggle just to float or to find your way back on the boat

                            these boys have got irons in the fire though   quite a few  whether they learned it from me or already knew    true is true

but the struggle isn’t with irons or industrialism it is with selfishness and       the expectations      damned twice   

but now sufficed and  only ‘ electric mainline’ high when i would            like them to be ‘lazer guided’  high 
‘ladies and gentlemen’ high

like the qualities ascribed  to a shy  relative-stranger who remembers so well nearly everything  i  say but still never truly looks my way just extends her arms at length to say  that  one       fucking        word       she said it        i heard    and  i    i just watch ohio      waiting for her to be   old-er or  bold-er or a certain kind of smarter     to realize the value of why it is we try harder                                  the ussses   
i wonder if it could be     truth   or merely the consequence of  overly lonely    the fall-back   only   but quiet is calling     the rain is falling

all the those  curls are whispering   ‘bony’     screaming  ‘only’  
negative    ‘feared’   ‘figured’   ‘weird’  

lacking the concrete nature of relation    pleasantly deflating each salutation       but still stealing my words     and phrases      entire weeks of days   

the whole of this settlement   is   betterment   
finally    we  knew       
we   could   see    
                       dead right foot tells me  heavily   that the dream doesn’t come true not for her not for you  

not  based on the force of the night-time feeling not on the amount of sorrow come stealing 
not on the boards pressed so neatly together 
made of coincidence gathered   bits of time
                            and the weather

there are ways to be wanted    there are ways

then   hypocrisy noticed that i don’t have the truth   any more than you  
and everyone knows that true is true

but   her   she heard it before  she knows what it was 
                                 how it faltered  the why    the because  

just a little bit more    right here   i think  
                     we’ll get the lines    to finally   blink 
  point to the end and actually get there
      have enough courage to stop and to stare
     at all the new light that gets in this room
wonder ‘how could anyone sleep until noon?’

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