on human measure, and monument

You spoke loudly, I felt quiet.  
my body filled with water. 
we found an agreeable shape to subsist inside of.  it came around.
Mythology returned to the river.  Time held us open like a gallery.
there were dead leaves in the hallway. we drank tea and watched my neighbor paint over his house. 
the showmanship on Main Street. Your mouth.  I could not follow anything else. for days in was like this.  we hardly ate. you were bad with names.
mood swinging between all or empty handed
nervous habits, torn paper napkin. 
my knees stiffened, beneath the table, between the shelves, behind the pew
you were drunk and asleep in the red armed chair
kept lovely by the blue light of nighttime’s television.
in our only resolve, we boiled water and stared at the ceiling.
we talked about the desert when we stayed in bed. should I have read into this?something desperate.  
I heard big dogs moving through the hallway.all night  
you said you dreamt of sleeping soundly. felt tired and pointless in public. our shape subsisted inside of an off white film. 
you cleared your throat of it. 
The only thing that remained still and same enough for counting were the shapes on the couch.
old cups of water,
small towers of books surrounded your bed.  I stepped lightly around what you were always rebuilding. Your beard grew in. 
The weather changed, closed its great mouth around a small town, made it smaller still. 
your posture at the gas station. my posture like a paragraph. I am unfolding myself in your bed like the story on the page.decorating myself with worthy detail, in an attempt to stay with you
with your cold paper hands and breakneck campaigning.
we burnt through a whole book of matches outside the old library
We pressed like water on glass.  This is what it felt like.How heavy it was 
A spider swallowing rainwater. 
I did not blink.my teeth did not fit into each other
in the evening’s rusted temperature, I tugged at your shirt
and kissed you the way that a season leaves the mountains.
These feelings seemed so monumental.
like singing to the country
that forsakes you for war, then takes you back in
and carries you home
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