now its years since your body went flat and even memories of that
are all think and dull, all gravel and gl-ss. but who needs them
now — displaced they’re easily more safe —
the worst of it now: i can’t remember your face.
for a while, with the vertigo cured, we were alive — we were pure.
the void took the shape of all that you were, but years take their toll,
and things get bent into shape…
antiseptic and tired, i can’t remember your face.
you were supposed to grow old. reckless, unfrightened, and old,
you were supposed to grow old.
return. you were supposed to return.