Untitled

I'm next to you
sitting at the bar in this
locals-only place having
driven all day
in the desert
in summer
and it is so
hot in here and I am
so beer-drunk and
I know from all the signs the
way you love and
hate me
what was it this time
when I put my hand on the
back of your neck when you were
complaining of
sunburn or was it when I told you the
little story about the
drama of the
friends you dislike or was it even
the way I
smelled my beer and
yours too
before drinking and I know now
it isn't magical and I know now it
isn't the satisfaction of your
need and your
yearning and your
forgetting of the feel of
what it is to lust and when I get
off my barstool and go into the
bathroom I know you are
not watching me go and I lean my
head spinning against the
wooden stall door and the five o'clock
light lights up
the water in the
bowl and its so pretty and like a heaven that
I have to say out loud the
divine truth

what I have
what we have

so that when we are back
in the car and I am
still drunk and you are
quiet and driving I will see that
light still and see what it shows

the truth and the
love and hate our own

watermark
ghosting through.