you could swim at the far end of the tent. at 4am the temperature was steadily
falling toward the floor. it would be hours until the sun rose about the spires
that stood in for the trees of our past. there were no sounds that could be made
into car engines. you said it yourself we are truly alone.
there was nothing beyond the lake but the wreck of the next several years.
they reminded me of the isolation I had grown to know in the past. where we
were going would we would need to swim. downriver. we only had left one
change of clothes.
the seasons worked in reverse until they were children again. when the world
would be faded at the edges with the liminal fragrances of the cathode tubes.
something haunting and safe. to scare their shadows into abeyance again.
to find what was lost they plunged their faces in. they bit and tore at the veins
we drank until there was nothing
you wept for any thing else left.
