he had a blank face with translucent light coming thru
and the penis-bitten shape of my
father in his mouth,
ready to eat and replace me.
i had the kind of longing that comes from sitting alone
in a gas station, eating noodles from a small
plastic container with the translucent white
light in my hair turning me into a window reflection
and my shape in the black reflection
cursing and shaking; i was not moving, i sat
at the long counter and ate.
he had the kind of carelessness and bitter-
ness where two words did not matter, three words
were chalked up as leftover blood after a rampage
and then forgotten; he texted like i
was a stranger.
i had too many words inside my mouth; i opened it
even slightly and around my tongue bounded out madly
the torrent: saying i love i love i love
someone and how could it not be
you; we were sitting in the grey with rain
coming down outside, sweater weather playing muted
in some faraway room, and i shook
like a mad dog while he sat and
watched and then left.