lost in translation

yesterday, we wasted away
without knowing
the power of like i am reminded
in blurring the mind
in obscuring time
the fact that what people say is so wonderful
what can create static that hovers just above your skin
is just two people in a room
it boils down to two
people hanging out maybe
eating indian food in a restaurant
or taking a walk and if you say it like
this it seems much less amazing
and sometimes if i squint and turn my
head sideways i can see it like this even when
i am one of those people, and the tandoori chicken
on the plate in front of me
is still hot.

you say you want me to be independent
that you like me, and why would you
want me to not be independent. you've seen it happen
before (haven't we all?) (but i have been inside of it) the absorption
of two people into one, and tell me how your suitemate says he will follow
his grad school girlfriend wherever she goes. you tell me:
this is the dumbest thing he could've said to me.
(yet you yourself say silly things). things about
time and relationship. i am not ready. i do not want
another relationship with an expiration date. this is
not the type of life, the type of living that i wish to be a
part of. i tell you this. you nod. i suppose you take it all quite well.

but you still text me effusively. effusiveness that is okay
when we are together. effusiveness that means
we can have this conversation
semi-dressed, in the light of my window
not at an all school concert that
everyone is partying to. (did he want me
to be independent too? did he care?
have an opinion.) you've done long distance before.
it didn't work out. how long? eight months. but i 
didn't really like her that much. well no i did. (do you say this to protect me?
chico. you can try. but i cannot protect you. the fact that i have loved
is undeniable. i cannot mold it to sound better to your ears. this relationship
i speak of. this relationship that breaks me that forms the edges of my skin still.
the things you say echoes of another's lips upon my ear.
the way you move the retracing of another's hand along my hips.
the absorption the swallowing was not only darkness (though i can see you
construe it that way, in the way my face contorts as i speak of it. in the fear that must
shine clearly enough in my face that you take my hand. squeeze it.) in it too was light.
light that is beyond the curving of this bedroom, light that is beyond all of the
intimacies that we have now reached, that we are still reaching. i do not wish to be known
again. this myth of closeness, enough of a shroud to carry for the years moving forward.
and this, i'm sorry, xxxxx is something i cannot deny.)