untitled, 2012
Recall a book store from your youth, a girl behind the counter
in Boston, perhaps now a mother, deceased
Perhaps still a child
disemployed, singular and vacant.
You fell in love with her or
her mind grasped in yours
You held all of the books at once and
the incandescent light of the street
and cool night warmth
You made a pact never to return
A plant springing up from the earth, dropping seeds of itself starving with lust.
