For Richard
It was 1984 and we were pretending to be spies.
It was one of those "adult" games that twists your arm to mingle. Our host, David, greeted us at the door with a card that had ou
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the second time. I turned up the music
how it harmonized with my heart.
Swimming now with gills
I see stingrays on all fours.
A cocktail of addiction,
I board ships on magenta shores.
I eat the purple raspberries
sleepwalkers laud as good.
I crave what quickens heartbeat, like
the touching of tongue when we say love,
or we act it—that which makes
Time erupt into cinder,
book leaf into flame:
I dunk thunderclouds like the sun,
thunderbolts flashing through my skull.
Helicopter blades slice
through my chest. I am an ice cube
set alone; soon to be mist.
I am so glad to be awake
to have this second chance. I love too much
not to want to die the best.
I forget my eyes will never open
to see stingrays in a third light.
I never get used to being alive: