paloozais

I think this whole thing is vaguely ridiculous. I'm still here because I'm looking for- god, something.

Let's be friends. Let's pretend we're nice people who want to get along and be happy.

Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem by Bob Hicok

My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers
of my palms tell me so.
Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish
at the same time. I think

praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think
staying up and waiting
for paintings to sigh is science.

Here, when I say I never want to be without you,
somewhere else I am saying
I never want to be without you again. And when I touch you
in each of the places we meet,

in all of the lives we are, it's with hands that are dying
and resurrected.
When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life,
in each place and forever.