Trapdoor Fucking Exit, Part 3

*

The sky is made of cellophane
sticking to our fingers
as we try to swat it away.
It remains cold and cloudless.
Maybe if I look closer—I’m only
bounding from moment
to moment like the blank
spaces between trees
when we drove to Glacier.
And walking around I said
I’d rather see a good movie
than a waterfall. I think
we listened to “This Charming Man”
at least ten times, driving home
through streetlight clouds
reflected on an asphalt lake.
Or was that when we moved
to California and I never
wanted to see snow again?
I’ve been trying to wake up
early to write. Instead
I’m usually up too late
to shower. I rush to work,
check my email for an hour
and a half, come home
and it’s already dark
even though it’s just after five.
Nothing on television
and it’s darker still.

*

Living in a new city
in an apartment
that you can’t afford
is not so bad
you tell yourself
if you have a purpose.
I do not have a purpose.
Her winter body is still
warm enough for my hands.
You never showed up
on time, except when asking,
am I too early? And I thought
that I never wanted
to touch you again.
Could you really believe
a word I said?
At times you were warm
in the too small apartment
at times it felt as if the windows
were made of ice.
At least I can put on a sweater.
At least I have some direction.
Other times it felt better
than anywhere else,
a book you finish
in an afternoon
then pick up another,
turning the page to reveal
the next page
“an afternoon of wings”
living-room/bed-room/dining-
room windows we couldn’t
see through like a mirror.

Living in a college town
with people you can’t stand
most of them at least
most of the time. And
I realized I’d never walked
through snow before,
I’d never seen snow
high enough to walk through.
And I can’t say that I was happy.
And I don’t know if you were.
Can’t say I didn’t try leaving
over and over. Still I only told you
when we were fighting
the words became mirrors
I couldn’t see through.
Now I don’t want to leave
and we will sooner or later
I can’t think of a reason
why we shouldn’t, except
because I don’t want to.
Anyway, she is asleep
in the living-room,
her winter body is still.