Stockholm Sweater – bring a towel, meet me by the lake

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March 2, 2015 by Wayne.

Companion poems from Bones Licked and Left

Stockholm Sweater

Towards the end, it felt like I
was talking to myself,
even while I watched your
hands (from out of white
sweater sleeves) cling to
metal pushing away
cured salmon.

I told you everything anyway,
all that I could, and when I ran out
of everything, I
crafted new people, places, beliefs
cut and sifted from online others
My dreams were there for the undertaking,
even while I watched your hands (from out
of unsheathed arms) clench, fidget, and wave.

You can’t leave me like this.


bring a towel, meet me by the lake

hey, wait!
you can’t leave me like this.

ugh.

well okay, i guess you can.

we went to yeast once and sat by the counter, facing the hanging
copperware and poached eggs floating in ice water, backs to the engorged man who wet his lips and stuck his eyes to you when you went to wash hands

we walked through telawiland and i pointed out the newly-dead stores like it was funny because we weren’t

we went to inside scoop, which also happens to be where they saw you with him, and all these pronouns are really confusing, but we had pistachio on a waffle one time when we sat inside, and we went a few times, i think we did

aw geez.

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