XVI.
Two of these things I cannot live without
live without anticipation
live without the expected or the unexpected
live without a long time left
live without love
live without my heart is broken
live without my home
live without lost time
live without the wit of the old queers
live without wine or Russian vodka
live without affordable tobacco
live without health
live without answer
and without echo
I left the streets I walked in the light of emotional lamplight I burrowed into the city it was Christchurch built on alluvial planes riddled with aquifers one day to erupt hiccup flat by bodies in a terrible clarity long coats all the contours pushed into a tiny spectrum corners in the smallest circuit so you turn how can you not know where you are by the river by the square by the curve of air by the mist and smoke in your mouth by the hunger and the thirst
I don’t know your name
are you next
can you live without your
insides
her red hair freckles long black coat pockets safety-pinned a fingerless glove she reached me out of her heart a long splinter of glass ice her lucid eyes handed me it saying you’ll be wanting this this bottle of gin you are a miracle
are you living here now
Sydney is it
every one with a view
of the ocean
speaking from notes
without saying a word
are you next reader
without
knowing how she could know all dimensions anticipations collapsed hiccup flat a door miracle flung open ahead it was Sydney and the dress rehearsal had gone long into the night I carried my daughter trains buses stopped for the night hills of the city curved in the fired air she slept home a far line distant in the hills along the curved night in the fired air a white door I didn’t know it was a taxi until her I poked my head in in my arms and he said where have you been
I’ve been waiting for you
live without reason
in your finitude
you’re here now
