i can imagine the poems i will write
when eventually (perhaps)
we fall away
one is:
if i were to meet you again, i would
and if i were to love you again, i would
and if i were to kiss your lips
and bid you goodbye
i would
and i would never have moved
to california, and you
would never have moved
to new hampshire, and
all of the cabins in the world
could not have contained the fire
we built.
that is how the poem would sound,
and i would not understand
a word.
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