don’t
we make it easy for others to leave?
I sit
with a person’s perspective,
I haven’t
necessarily made it hard to lose,
choice
is a record, it always aches.
I see
succubus. I wonder her name. she
seems
to live life, break boundaries,
laugh
at miseries, love harder. she
has
patience,
she
has not patience,
she
works well with indecision. so
simple,
riding the lines, exiting in Korea
Town,
eating a morsel, gazing at Mrs.
terrific—floating
in memories, biting a
vibration,
shooting a volt, fretting the early
behaviors.
don’t
we make it easy for others to leave?
she
fell. I was younger. so terrific, that
word,
pure trauma, purer rage, an
excellent
combat warrior.
another
from Kenya, six feet tall, dazing,
nodding,
too damn gorgeous, I pinch
myself.
another
with a susurrous aura, ghosts
follow
her, her mother died last month.
I can
handle. I can hang. lost mother
also.
another
a jinni, a myth, a dragon or
snake,
a tiger or dog, we giggle at the
loses.
so hidden,
such
raw, thawed-out pain, melting in
chains,
sticky in pash, if but to redeem
essence.
don’t
we make it easy for others to leave?
