lots of 23

i’m lots of 23

hugging a wall

or just laying down

splayed like a bird squashed

or a fish gutted

from the gestation of girls

that bounce with a night you

could hear if you were listening

and around with me

moving and putting poetry

into the motion of bodies

that bind all that

can be bound

in a drink and a drunk

the i and you

living up until now

to be together

again

if there are more walls

to hang ourselves on

as dead

dessicated animals

emptied of the green chunks

of junk

from 22 years

that are lost in morning

in a sun much older

*

where do we go

when we go away

into places of unplace

where no one else is

hearing us

feel the same

as they do

for the only thing

shared between every being

is that they do not know

what is shared between every being

who goes away

like they do