I Speak to You Because I Don't Know You

Too much lately you’ve been inside
how could the wind forget you have been
misspent and in the bodega tonight I forgot
the paper towels, forgot to clean up the spilt coffee
on the kitchen floor and stepping in it, the cold between
my toes felt nothing like slicing them with kitchen sheers—
and if I wanted to boil it up again I’d have stuck
my whole damn foot in the microwave,
400 plus watts and prayed it would explode.
I, like you, are impermeable— gemstone statuettes
but never the antique. Too much lately you’ve been
speaking in your complicated verse. I’ve provoked
in you by lines of smoke, pass through sunlight,
miss the words that might have held everything
together. You’ve been talking about robbing the seven
-eleven but if you really meant robbing me I’d believe you.
My necklace is choking me and if my hip bone
smashes into this counter one more time I think I might like it.