13

once you were gone
i crawled off of the couch
and into your bed

put on your best dress shirt
and lay there
petrified of wrinkling it

and i thought "i will live honestly today"
which means "i will not leave this bed ever"

12

the worst part about an incoming nervous breakdown
is that it's incoming

i don't know how to write a poem
i only know that i came into my bedroom
expecting to see me sleeping there
wishing i could put my guitar down gingerly
and kiss my own forehead--

is it possible for you to remember
a memory you don't remember
a brick fireplace in ann arbor

i've been remembering two things:
you & your impossibility

but mainly your impossibility
which i must always return to
not a washbasin or the smooth of a collarbone
under a hotel sheet