SOUVENIR WAY
“How many strangers have you been with?”
“Too many…
Not real in the way two people are
But in the fumbling way that you touch something
that you have never touched before.
The falling way…
The surrender way…
Breathing became this loud thing between me and the strangers
My lungs they shuddered against the living
Yet we keep on living
Me and the strangers
The lonely way
The yearning way
And there in all that empty space
That we make
I did not find the time to give them names.
Oh but touch me again
In this spot that is human
I still miss the abandonment of strangers.
The souvenir way that we pray….”
Like birds, all the lost
We sit on our wires
Listening to the telephone lines
To the electricity
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