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In this three times. I am awake for the first time in this house. A wake takes place in the palace at 4 a.m. I awake in the house for the first time. Life house, summer house, death house, spring house, bed room, life room, private room, morning death night birth room, midsummer orange tree, gravity, the density of soul, pain, loss, depth, deep, sweat life, sharing water in this. In this, in this, in this breathing, the heat, me I felt French, if one could feel so being an American heat does not break the spell. What did she say? The aluminum rails, the classical music waifing in through a single speaker and casually interrupted by announcements of construction, beautification and efficiency first in English, then Spanish and then the Rights of Spring sweating after the downpour, sharing silent tongues under construction, transparent. What did she say? Did she remember the lakes mentioned the stop? Remember how is the new dawn, the sun is coming up, lady luck, passengers waiting against the rails with books, rations and tabloids, lazy pedestrian ballet dancers, the boy awake, to new/old thoughts, electric-butterfly shocks breaking open all over the skin, descending the hill, in this now, I say, to often collapse, simply collapse in this new dawn train depot, sage, mint flowers the brain knows no better in early pink light going orange the Chelsea morning feelings of in this, in this, in this gravity, density of soul, loss, absence increase mass in the stomach area, loss alone loss? Sweat down my back a single stream dawn down my back and no longer can I drink water without thinking of her breathing, sharing water, breathing out into she, I often collapse in bed, a lover named she, after the moons upon moons, but this awakening sees the Miranda moon in day rooms and night rooms. The car stops and I get in and already there is security like the cool smell of my grey jacket the glowing color that sound so grey and absorbs into all around the stillness. What did she say? Do you have thirty more years? And all I want. Do you think you have thirty more years? Do I have? And all I want.
Written by: ~ J.D. Szalla |
