I didn’t want to fall apart mid-sentence,
So I said less and asked more questions.
Tuned out love songs, skipped our street —
I made avoiding you look complete.

I smile and nod when your name is mentioned,
As if it doesn't pull me out of the conversation
They throw it around casually, like it's not cutting right through —
I guess I never got to cry out about you.

Living
if  you call it living

vicariously
through  you

a passenger on  every
trip

where
you always drove

Shut up. I need you to shut up.

The lake is grinning. You can hear the lake
and its schemes, the umbra behind
all that mesmerizing blue.

Blue is color dead to itself. Blue is the cataract
called sky. Blue pretends while the infinite
animal runs naked running
its fingers round
the swell
of stars
that sweat
like oysters.
Ah.

You can’t drown in that blue. Now shush.
I hear the lake undress.