on writing loneliness so much
it becomes a body.

i don't want to alarm you
but i wanted you to know before
you decide to love me that
i was the girl you heard about--
--the one who talks to the corners
of rooms-- 
walks into the wall paper
to discover a forest
full of stiff trees
-- the one who 
holds their hand out 
car windows & catches
shards of fruit snack wrappers 
tossed from the front
seat a blue station wagon 
-- the girl 
who pulls up the onion
grass by the neck
--the left fielder tearing the
grass up with a metal cleat--

the kind of girl who 
needs to
dig a tunnel under the house
with baby spoons
in search of the cisterns
to hide in--
that's where my grandfather
is sleeping-- my father
looks for them too but
he never digs--
he knows if he found one
he would never come back--
i'm good at coming back
that's why i use baby spoons--

i have always been lonely
& it's the kind of thing
i look forward too--
a rush like standing 
on a wooden plank above
a pool of stars-- i have 
written so much about loneliness
she became her own body--
i don't want to control her anymore--
there she sits
riding shot-gun-- rolls down
the windows & only eats the blue 
fruit snacks--
i tell her that's not fair 
but she only legs dangles 
her feet in the rushing 
air-- leg hairs bristling
in the wind--
she wears an over-sized 
grey-hoodie like a dress 
all the way down to her knees--
it reminds me of the one
you used to wear when
we watched fireworks--

sometimes she just sleeps
& i have to remind her
to get up again & follow me--
she's nothing like
a shadow-- i already had one
of those--
you have to watch her more--
shadows are so much more
obedient but loneliness
rests up against 
your shoulder & kisses your neck--
i can understand why it would 
be frustrating to love the both
of us but i hope
you can understand that
i need her sometimes--

when we go to the movies
she takes up the seat to the left
but i have two sides & 
i promise i'll be listening to you

on days when i drive off
just the two of us she'll play
with the radio & she always knows
what song to find to make me cry--
i park & recline the driver's seat
like a dentist's chair--
she crawls over on top
of me & tangles her body 
in mine so tight that we
become one-- i cry about
nothing & everything
& the things i'll never
find at the bottom of the cistern--

i open the door with her arms
still wrapped around my neck 
like a silk scarf--
she laughs in the shrug of
the trees-- kisses
my neck softly
again & again.