A dream, January 2022
We figured out how to live together.
Tossing down the carcasses of large birds
from the upper shelf. We made room
for my luggage. I would use the curtain
for privacy. I would wear headphones.
I would laugh quietly. I would go outside.
Neither of us would pass gas. Ever. Even
into the mattress. I would not shed hair.
Eventually,
we would resent each other.
We would prefer the dead raven, and be dignified
and silent. Sharing nothing but what we had to share:
the air. The kind you cut through.
--
I know
what intimacy is. It is
to know
that look.
For better or worse
we are social beings.
We must keep warm.
It is wonderful
to have someone to tell
your good news.
