draft 1:
are you better? are
we on different planes, served on
separate plates; driven apart.
i have no self i have no
shelf for all of this...
draft 2:
goodbye, today has been
one long goodbye
(i would like to lose my virginity
on the last day
that i see you)
i am, however, unsure to whom
my hand is waving--
to you, silly thing--
or to the mirror?
draft 3:
i do not know the phase of the moon.
i am pursued.
i am a pursuant.
the orangepinkyellow of tonight
will not be forgotten
the synapses will hold. the
cosmos are incorrect.
these things do not happen without
words, beautiful words.
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