poem: purgatory

a long time ago, there was surety – i was god, i met
another god; he was wayward future king
holder in palms of my
eventual, watery breaking – we argued
in smoke-sweat places about theology and whether
history is a stasis, is there
a retvrn. he liked girls crouched over their
over-abstracted intellectual, embroidery-square
small experience. he fought
with me, i fought with him — this is dating
in your early twenties when you are
the same people.

a long time ago there was limited experience:
the dandelion green days, the obvious old books
to read — war and peace bleeding into first
year of college, the echo the shimmering
anime soundtracks walking back from the
gym, very cold streetlights. the deep chocolate
coffees and work work work Paris Asia as real
places — the wild psychosis nights the one time
I really tried to break — red curtains, opening
to black — I could not find the knife in my
dorm room, the moon watched me with
open mouth closed eyes. the slippering time
of wanting nothing. the melting time of having
everything, all possibility. now, paying bills
with a man I cannot have
sex with — this is dating in your early
twenties with your
specific non-stasis,

I collect time in baskets it moves through me
like water. it says rush rush you find things are small
now you put days together in blocks of
habits you go home you clean you cry or
study. I collect time but it
overruns me, I attempt but these years are too
strange.