I didn’t want to see you,
to hear the words I knew
were at the tip
of your toungue. I didn’t
want this. I wanted to go
on forever as I was, to continue as
a question mark. I wanted to
be alone, to be like th island
we passed that summer we went to
the keyes. We drove down adn there
it was, a lone tent on it’s shore.
I wanted to be that island without
the tent. Then you dug into the sand
and set up your little nylon and metal frame,
and it was good until you said those words.
Did I try to stop you, or did I draw them out
of you like a man pulling water out of a well
by a chain? Did they hurt when they passed
thru your throat, when they scraped your teeth?