River
I think we’re past the polka-dot world
and things that sing willy-nilly.
I want to touch the beholden
and be beside your weather.
I want to hold your hand as though
that’s possible. I can’t pretend I don’t know
what’s possible or what’s personal.
Today it seems as though the rivers work.
So many of them, working in spite of us.
I can’t pretend those ideas can be laid
down with the blether someone believes.
I want to lie down with you
and pretend we too have water.
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