You think I’ve forgotten you, but
I haven’t. If I was honest
With my feelings I’d probably move
Somewhere in the desert, say,
Utah. No one would know why
I lived with the sparrows, because
If I was honest with my feelings I’d love
Too many people at once—men, women,
It wouldn’t matter, I’d convince the sky
To marry me. They’d call me insane,
lock me away, give me Klonopin.
I’d see things: stars, Chopin’s symphony
floating madly. These things I’d want
to possess: your braids, every autumn
leaf stuck to your sweater, the lampposts.
You think I’ve forgotten what it feels like
to love one person faithfully, on a railway,
in the desert. I just want to hear the earth
call me insane. You think I’ve forgotten
you. No one knows but the sparrows
how many times I’ve written I want nothing but
every god-blessed you.