Dizzy and down, feeling that sickly centripetal pull, circling the drain
don’t let my weight pull you down
I would walk to your door, kneel down on your floor, and beg you to take pity on me if pity
was the medicine I need
I don’t need food
I don’t need water
I don’t need air
I don’t need words
When she lay down soft and let my
tongue wander where it would
the sound of air rolling through her throat was like pebbles
dropping into sand
“You remind me of somebody,” she said. “But I think he’s dead.”
I said, “You remind me of nobody.”
