I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

Well, I can't say that neither of the catfish danced.  One did.  Undone.  And I am not upset.  I promised Mother and the fish at the market place.  Whether or not I can make it.  I'll try.  But I won't be there without Sam.  Probably.  He'll see if it's OK.  Mom said so.  It's going to be that one time.  That I don't have to worry.  A rainstorm.  Kyle wouldn't talk to me.  So maybe I will see if Sunday works for him.  Friends.  They aren't always the way they used to be.  And what was that one way anyway?  Used to.  When I was a kid?  You had no friends then or now, Carl.  You're the same now as you were then.  Then.  When you were a kid.  You took pride in your ability to play alone.  To be satisfied.  Playing with yourself.  You were not a strange kid.  But those people you called friends.  Thank them.  And thank your mother.  You wouldn't have had even one of them were it not for her forcing you to play with them.  But you preferred to be alone.  So many universes to re-create.  All of them fit from cartoons.  Right?  Yes.  When I blinked, the commercials turned into cartoons.  For a split second.  The length of time it takes to blink.  Quick.  But the cartoons were there.  When I blinked during the commercials.  They were there.  I know they were.   Well, it was a paddle and a ball and an elastic string.  You know the kind.  Where you bounce it about three times and then try again.  Actually, if you're good three times.  Otherwise, one.  If you're lucky.  At three years old.  That was my first memory.  The bouncy, rubber ball hanging from the elastic string.  And the paddle.  Wood.  It was my toy.  I remember saying.  "Remember this."  It was the first time I told myself to remember anything.  I still remember it.  I don't know what else, though.  I held on to the paddle-ball.  Only.  Wait.  There was an outdoor fireplace.  Cinder blocks.  It was across the street at my aunt and uncle's place.  I walked there all of the time.  I was walking home.  Or around the fireplace, which was there.  On my way home.  I said, "Remember this."  It's important.  I kind of remember saying, "This will be your first memory."  I was three.  I specifically tied those two portions of this memory together.  Three years old and the paddle ball toy.  And I said, "Remember this."  Why?  I don't know.  Witchitaw.  Wabash.  Let me feel that.  Well, I'm sorry if you were frightened.  I feel.  And I felt.  A need.  And I acted upon it.  You're never gonna let me live this down.  Are you?  Please try.  Again, I'm not gonna be scared anymore.  Not if I try my best to squeal with delight.  Like I should when confronted with all of those things.  Which one tonight?  The damp one.  Easier.  Inside.  Wavering confidence now.  Un-enforced.  Logic.  Please tell them to come in, because I can't talk.  I'm coughing.  Or I coughed.  And I'm not trying not to cough again.  I waited for the right moment.  That they said to cough, but it never came.  I had to.  I had to cough.  I couldn't help it.  Please try and stay away.  As far as possible.  Away from me tonight.  As possible.  OK?  I'm in no mood.  To party.  In fact, I'm celibate now.  I'm waiting for the right time.  Stay away.  That smell.  I know that smell.  It speaks.  Volumes.  So much ecstasy.  I could rub that smell, where it comes from, all night long.  God.  Please.  Let me feel the warmth of that spot.  It's squeamish.  Until I make it comfortable.  I'll release it.  I'll do.  What you want.  But stop calling me.  That.  With that.  Smell.  It's a wonderful.  Odor.  Said I'm going to change my plans for this afternoon.  Yes.  Come with me.  I want you to believe.  To be there.  Too.  Here.  Right here.  Next to me.  Can I hold you?  Closer.  That's so much better!  Isn't it?  God.  You feel so nice.  Why haven't we felt each other this way before.  So far away.  All of the time.  Only our smells communicating this way.  Before now, I only imagined.  I didn't know.  Now I know you've felt the same way too.  The whole time.  What a wonderful feeling.  These smells.  They're great.  Too.  You don't have to get me wrong.  But this is altogether different.  Isn't it?  I know it is.  You don't have to say anything.  I can tell.  From your smell.  And now from your torch.  Hot.  That's so good.  Please.  Don't stop.  No!  Wait!  That's not what I wanted.  Wait.  Now stop.  Now.  OK.  This isn't what I thought you wanted.  No!  Please.  Stop.  Go away.  You are uncalled.  Take your lures away.  Further false.  In what they offer, they are false.  Fake jewelry.  Costume jewelry.  The latest fashion.  Whatever it sells, it sells.  And not by high fashion standards.  Exactly my point.  Wilting.  Daffodils are not as easily identified as dandelions.  I am aware of the color, the texture, the size, the location, the blooming-season, the reputation, the sight, the feeling, and the wrath of dandelions.  Yellow.

Her footsteps echo
between the gnarl'd, elder trees
pursued by mem'ry.

i have yet to set roots in anyone
my mind and my body always wandering
through the streets of foreign towns
the only constant has been a vacant strip mall and interesting strangers
the men i meet on these streets have come into my life like a storm
their attention pouring down on me, drowning me
nothing has ever compared though, to the feeling i get from you

when i walked into his apartment i felt as though i'd been here before
there was a man long ago, they could have been brothers
two worlds colliding together right in front of my eyes
i wasn't sure if i should hold on tight or run away

the fire faded and i was left standing cold alone on another corner
my heart was beating so fast i thought it would jump out of my chest
how i could i let this happen again and where would i go from here
there was nothing left to do but continue to walk away

i walked down that street, got into my car and drove away
finding a place to stay for the night because nothing feels like home anymore
quickly adjusting my clothes and my attitude i picked myself up
looking back now, i should have known better
i should have seen the signs, but i was blinded by his intoxicating conversation
once again.

there was only one thing left to do
waltz straight into that tall venue with friends at my side
hand the girl with the pink and black hair my ticket
and forget my troubles
remember that your roots are not planted there
they are in your heart
and your heart belongs to the man on stage.

that's the moment i realized that i was home.