Clockwise Cat Strikes Back

You placed your small soft hand over my eyes
Told me not to look around as you led me up the stairs.
I was coming from work.
Needed a shower and so to the bathroom we went.
We never watched a movie.
We never even kissed.
We entangled in that way that two disconnected people do
with all hands and tongues and sweat
but no passion.
We entangled in that way for six months,
my tongue in all the places you desired
my mind in every place… but you.
Flight
What it must feel like to succumb to yourself
To garble and gargle and stop.
To just, stop. Being.
I found myself once, at a Ramada Inn just inside the Louisiana border of Texas. Found
myself running from myself and looking around a dank and grimy hotel room for
anything that might aide me in my flight.
I was 19 and had no knowledge of Virginia Wolfe.
I guess I’m glad I didn’t know all I had to do was drown myself in the pool. Add rocks to
my pockets and sink.
I guess I’m glad I’ve learned that I cannot outrun myself.
I think even in death, we are always with ourselves. The lack of pounding and exhale is
simply a facade. These bodies, just bodies.
I think,
I’ll be with myself always.
I think, someday I’ll be okay with that.