one-eyed deuce
you’re a novice in the back room playing
bones with the old school bone players
i’m in the front room dancing with a big girl
named esther in a plaid skirt and high tops
your girlfriend sits watching you as i say
to esther: it’s good to dance
with someone who really loves to dance
esther smiles, says nothing;
you come in third twice
you asked me over for dinner once
then made me do all the cooking
i did it because it was you asking;
i can’t refuse your crooked grin
over cigarettes you told me to think
about it, moving in with you and her
we’ll find a house, you said, where
we can be together and really live
next to your girlfriend i watch as you
smile with the boys playing dominoes
she says you never danced with her before:
he doesn’t even move to music, she confides
what i don’t confide: the first time you asked me
out to a party, you and i danced alone together
under dark avocado leaves and limbs; earlobes
wet with wild ideas murmured in fluent mezcal
shunyavidya
then came the autumn
he stepped into twilight and
no longer occurred to himself
the lamplit streets did not occur
either, nor churning treetops
nor stars nor even words
warm glowing windows did not occur, nor
his footsteps on wet neon glazed sidewalks
numberless cars swarmed about him,
unnoticed as cells in his bloodstream
the world carried on but
did not occur, and though
the town where he lived remained
his absence erased it from the map
he was not seen walking along
streets that no longer had names
but wandered unbound, a sutra
torn from a no longer extant text
esinti
in its absence a thing longed
for is present in the longing
what’s out of reach only seems so
when reaching the wrong way
everything you want is here,
and ‘everywhere’ is here also;
only your attention is missing
a romance is a lovely story, but actual
love has no beginning middle or end
let the narrator of romances
be done with its storytelling
fired like a moth in the open flame of Reality
and be glad. count your blessings, as I do
fortune has brought you into the aura of
a flame without beginning middle or end
surrender your wings
– be more dandelion
there’s no telling where
a beneficial wind may blow