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Wherever I go
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I go, too, |
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a contortionist's act
|
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every time, and if we dance |
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we dance together, too
|
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many legs, too few |
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arms (we've got just two
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to share). |
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I stepped on someone's toe,
|
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but whose? We're a couple in search |
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of a couple. No use whispering
|
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to a woman, I'd love to be alone with you. |
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She's too busy thinking-
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wondering? shuddering?- |
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But they must bathe together,
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dress together; can't undress |
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him without him naked too.
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Or He couldn't hug me without… |
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Yes, I'd have half
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the hugging to do.
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He'll say to her, |
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This is my brother, he's along
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for the ride; I'll close my eyes- |
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as if that'd help-
|
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for the dinner, the dance, |
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but what about what
|
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comes after? Come on, shall I pretend- |
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to snooze? Snore a bit? Yes.
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|
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And I'll tell her, No, don't
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|
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worry, my brother's passed
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|
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out-too much to drink-it's just
|
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you and me now, he won't hear
|
|
|
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a thing. No, I'm sure. But we
|
|
|
|
|
|
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haven't much time. Do you
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|
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know what it's like to be
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|
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with someone always and always
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|
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be lonely? Yes, I love him. No,
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|
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not like this; this… no, he-
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Oh! I was sleeping, honestly- |
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didn't hear a thing.
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Not a thing. I was dreaming- |
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Goodnight, then, goodnight-
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of my other arm. |
Selections from Bellevue Literary Review, Fall 2002