I wish I didn’t love you so much. No I don’t though; that’s not true. I am glad I do. I don’t know what to say to you except that it tore the heart out of my body saying goodbye to you.
I had been there twice before
When I learned New York was going
to be taking care of me.
I imagine it now
My life, the thick grey,
The dreams I have after walking
The streets, kicked awake
By my own visions of falling.
Why am I going?
I know how to love something that
Can’t love you back.
I know how to touch a stranger
Who feels only like yourself; still not alright.
The calls are coming
They will be received on the street
By the corner man
And through my phone
From the people I keep lying to.
I will go out at night because
I think I should go out at night.
And I will love the night
And I will love the moment that
Makes me feel good here for another
But I will not love him.
I learned New York would be taking care of me
But I feel placed with the mother who has let
Me down before.
The one who gives me a little money to forget
and food when I think I can no longer eat.
In bed when the light comes in,
I imagine sliding down a side-turned street
Vertical, and missing each inserted tree,
Each cinderblock person,
And not stopping until I hit whatever bridge…
It’s a good story to say;
I went sliding through New York.
But when it’s over my body is tired,
My hands are a little black
And I wonder if I’ve lost.