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In my lesser moments I see wonderings like glass bubbles dangling just barely hanging by frayed threads from the way up ceiling and as I walk through I worry I might brush one too brusquely and break it where it floats and a small sparkling shower of near paper-light jagged and splintered pieces will flutter like a tiny coruscating cascade, some sticking to me like glitter, or a thread will snap and a bubble will plunge down to the hard smooth cold concrete floor and be lost, destroyed in a pop like a dropped lightbulb christmas ornament and I won’t find my way back in the dark and something beautiful will be broken. So I stand still.

My lesser moments are diminished, though, thankfully near eradicated, thanks to you, thanks to purpose and electric charges, and I walk straight through and let them fall if fall they must because I’m this and you are too and the rest is the rest and none of it will never be the same since you found me in dream and reached me in real and I found you back, belle reve, and I’ll stop now with this breathless talk of mine because we make our own words anyway and remember the line from that prose-poem from that book I mentioned that goes “your body next to my body solves word problems”? well I never mentioned that line, only the book, but I’ll come to you and repeat it if I remember and we’ll lay still, moving, still moving, breathing, not, not breathing, because it’s a fall delicate and profound and we’ll say ………………………….

 


The line from that prose-poem from that book is from Meghan Privitello, “Solvent,” in A New Language for Falling Out of Love.

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