My lover sleeps across a river I can’t bridge with two crooked legs and a smile that only shows at night. He tells me it’s no easy distance, from one side to the other, but I could make the plunge if I wanted to. I tell him it’s not true.
I’ve already tried to relocate these longings,
packed up my few belongings into a backpack,
then boarded a bus heading South
to the mouth of suburbia,
as far away from home as I’ve ever been.
But instead of steady,
I’d grown weaker from within.
Let’s meet in the middle, I plead. With skyscrapers to our left and cathedrals to our right, perhaps we’ll find some way to be both modern and fashionably vintage.
He says okay.
We make our home in the toxic water,
hoping our differences will disintegrate
in a day or two.