I’ve already spent too much time watching people and here we are.
I’ve started using Grindr again
for the first time in years. I used to call myself
an addict and went to meetings but not for sex.
For the feeling of falling into a body, not caring
about them as much as they do about me. I’m
an asshole. I’m only attracted to people if they’re
wild about me and I imagine it. I imagine it wrong.
(I’d be less honest if this poem were written
to somebody else, but again I remind you
dear reader, you live inside this body with me.
Can you hear me? Is it you, better half?
Are we the same?) I’m sitting here, we’re sitting here.
That ship is gone finally from our sliver of the water
and I don’t know what to look at. How beautiful
today is despite the wind. I can look at anything.
The weeds in the sidewalk cracks, the split
in the white concrete, the mountains painted
onto the pillars holding the highway up.
But moving things are easier to focus on.
I’ve spent too much time with my eyes roaming.
That beige minivan, vomit-green Toyota Tacoma,
mauve Honda Civic passing on the highway are too quick
and people, well. I’ve already spent too much
time watching people and here we are.
Read part 5 of this poem