Autumn is Impermanent

Four AM and why am I awake?

I am so excited and hurt and anxious and scared. Life is too thrilling, too fast, too here. Everyday has been good to me; some thing's wrong, or bound to be.

My head under your chin, dizzy with wine, watching a man sing and this could be perfect till you leave again. And you left again.

On the lawn of the capital, holding hands, drinking coffee and laying in leaves as a couple just got married.

"I want to get married...



...more than once."


We laughed, we always do.

And then goodbye, till Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Summer. Holidays and seasons bring us together. In between are unanswered letters written with ultra fine point pens, again and again.

Love,
Alison.

I sign.

Just Because We're Gone

Dearest Carnivore,

It isn't that I find you dense,
just your reasoning could be better.
Altogether quite precious, though really.
If I had a pretty singing voice, or wait,
maybe now it's called confidence,
then I'd write you perfect melodies,
and send them to you electronically.
I remember yummy yummy
and nighttime public access television.
And the days of eye appointments
and you calling my professors,
informing them I would not be making it to class.
Now, you see, it's seven pills a day,
with an 8oz glass of filtered water.
Not watching weight, but watching you wait.

Best,
Herbivore