A man just needs a few things.
I had no more moon or sun to wind my thoughts.
The recycled air I breathed
was like old laundry.
It pressed me in
for fear of losing itself outside.
I drank; I slept
curled and clothed
seeing what I could.
I toasted all the victories
I knew.
Each day was a passing theatre
of those who knew no better.
I laughed as I tossed back
and burned my cuts to freshness.
Each night, sitting where I could
the floor swelling
rising gingerly
to meet me, her lap
her thighs
these arms, waiting.
Like a pendulum, this swing between
was me
most myself in another
little death.
I stand on your threshold now,
my indecisions spread about me.
My breath smells of them
they peer out of my eyes
and shuffle with each foot fall.
They follow me like royal robes
ridiculous.
They follow us
like marauders through the void.
Help me cut out this centre
of gravity and lay it
on the table between us.
We’re all on the run together
and even the poorest one among us
must throw the last of his firewood
on the common flame.