Thursday, July 15, 2010

for the little girl

the one eye he gave me
made me feel holy

i only looked a while
afraid that he might know me

something about interlopers entwined

i entertained his existential story

me shutting up enough he did not
need to hurry away
but he certainly
could not remain
some figment and neither could
he any more be imaginary

and yet i put him down
pick up a book or a blanket
i put him down and brush my teeth
breathing the whole time at peace
and then i pick him up again
regardless of the brevity of him
the levity of him amusing me

i hardly looked at his eyes
the one best chance for it wasted
and of course in that moment the
two of us were
wasted that is
wasted on or by or for each other
the grammar of it all eludes me