Far Far away she lives
A little disturbed a little curled
Making her way in this big big world
She reads me like nobody else
Pulling me out from my little shells
She tell me things, No one else tells
Ring in my heart , a million bells
She want things
Things I can never give
Far far away she lives
Far far away she lives

You loved me because I was innocent.
Naïve.
New.
But, darling
Your eyes were too blind
To the deeper meaning
Behind long sleeves
And solo cups.

I knew this girl.
A beautiful girl.
Prettier than any other girl I had met.
She  was a one in a million kind of girl.
Not many were like her.
And she swore they all wanted to be her.
But I loved her nonetheless.

She took these photos, beautiful, magnificent photos.
I would look forward to them.
They provided a certain service for her.
They filled a void.
They were personal.
Artistic.
Special.
But they were not simply of her.
They were of her mind.
Her soul, her heart.

That girl.
One day she stopped taking those photos.
She lost her mind,
She lost her soul,
She lost her spirit,
She lost her will.
Her spark was gone.


To this day, I still miss those photos.

who knows how it works?  
the way I end up like my mother
in a dining room at a wooden
table eating for two

2. the way I take baths now
my body wrinkles in the tub
the way hers always did when
I was two years old just learning
how to clench my fists I would
clench them around the wrinkles
of her belly, kiss her temples
all round and sharp like the caps
of beer bottles

3. when I was just two years old
I would drink the leftover bathwater
I still sometimes drink the leftover
bathwater in all of its murkiness I was
drinking her body now I am drinking yours

4. she called our house heaven
if our house was heaven then
heaven is made completely wooden
our front door was heavy and isolated

5..  dirt paths dirt roads matching dry dirt
buried into our matching dry hair
our matching dry mouths our chapped lips

6. with snow pushed to the side of the ground
covering our feet like threadbare blanket
like a lost husband’s lost hands