First This, Then Something Else
I wanted a thing like power,
so I closed the drapes on the window that
sunny day last May, to keep the warmth out and the cruelty in.
I held dominion over my kingdom of sheets and blankets for an entire
I wanted a thing like gluttony,
so I breathed you in until I swelled,
and asked for more. It was hard-fought, more than I deserved
there on that Colorado hillside three summers past.
I wanted a thing like motion,
so I spent a week on trains,
cancelling the past, plotting the future,
never resting once. The clack
and the squeal, at once soothing and jarring.
were never more satisfying.
I wanted a thing like health,
so I choked down the elixir of aloneness
and violence I mixed and let myself drift here, or there,
to anywhere, but—God—that nameless spot.
And then I wanted a thing like you.