I ate an apple today.
& now that I think about it,
I’ve eaten an apple every day this week.
& life is suddenly in front of me
but also behind me.
The man at the bar says
we been through this before
& lets me into the crowded room
& I think well no this is a good thing.
Andy suggests we leave,
the crowd finding little spaces to move
in between us like villainous snakes
when really we’re just here to talk quietly about
this little den of massacre called America
& we find some place where our knees touch under the tables.
Then, there is, oh god,
a terrible and swift feeling
in the pit, down like near the liver, underneath
because, I tell Leah that I like a guy, man,
beard, bread-eating little devil, red
because maybe, he grabbed my arm while he kissed me.
Or, I’m deep in the chasm of wanting
like two mated penguins
except one of them has died
& it’s really time for them to move on.
& then I realize the apple isn’t enough.
& these feelings are good
& to hurt with longing is to
seize the means of production
any of the above
is the simplest way
to enact change
& the bloodied body is new & simple
& is rising above
I’m not sure but
I drink water slowly,
listening to a French man
fix the old wooden doors
to my house.