phase one:
the crowds part for him, and something
inside you does too; followed by your lips,
followed by your thighs. you utter his name
in your empty apartment just to feel its
weight on your tongue. he scares you.
phase two:
he still scares you but you've moved things
around to make room for the fear. you give
it a bed. you give it his name. you feed it.
you realize all at once that you could love
him, and you are breathless with relief that
you don't. but you could, just like you could
hit the gas instead of the brakes and plunge
into a ravine. on the road and then in the
river just that fast.
phase three:
you're in the river. you wonder if you were
ever really on the road. you think maybe you
can live like this, just like you thought you could
breathe underwater when you were four or so.
exhaling is fine, it's easy, but on inhale you flood
your lungs. he isn't what you needed, he is the
water choking you, but it's not his fault you don't
have gills. it isn't his fault you hit the gas instead
of the brakes.