Traveling

You are unaccountable:

            the way your eyebrow raises in that way that says, “You’re talking out your ass aren’t you?”,

            the way your mystical mouth manages to enunciate everything I need to hear,

            and the way I can’t manage, no matter how hard I try, to get that thing you said about dreams

 

out of my head.

 

To love is indeed a strange verb.

What is it, exactly, that you are doing?

It is a verb—

that bit is undeniable—

but what kind?

 

The mountain air broke

through St. Christopher’s

lungs,

trying to illustrate to him

precisely how dangerous

things are,

and he breathes it in and

breaks his lungs, and he

says,

 

“I am sorry wind, please

see that I love you dearly

now,

and see that I see what

you are desperately trying

to do,

but know I must travel on

toward the unknowable.

 

You act out of love,

and for that I love you

but

we all know the things

we do in the name of

love

can certainly contain

the most selfish motive.

 

You love me because I

love you, and everything

you are,

but you do not love

me for me,

you love me for what

it is I can

do.

 

How can you love me

in myself,

when I don’t know myself

from me?

 

So I take my lime green accessories,

and I water down my waterproof boots,

and my one-person tent has been prepared,

and the infinite beckons me on, broken lungs

and all.

 

You big-breasted whore of Babylon, Be Gone!

I can take no more curvaceous connivery.

And yet,

and yet,

I want you all so bad.

No No No No No

Go Go Go Go Go

Do you reckon I miss you?

Well, know goddamn well I do.

I am cursed to love.

It’s all I know to do.

 

But take your strappy sandals,

and take your fantastic words,

and take your knowing smile

away from the unworthy.

 

One cannot worship at the altar and physically communicate.

It, unfortunately, doesn’t work that way, and I know you are

not real.

It can’t be.

It’s oh so good

and I want to touch,

but I walk.  Walk on.”

 

He takes up his

walking staff,

fills his water

canteen once,

 

takes a sip from

the stream,

and leaves—a shell of

a man.