Daniel Fitzgerald

024

Daniel Fitzgerald

024

When I say it out loud,
It becomes real.

In praise of short term love,
Waiting to speak over listening.
Compulsion over legitimacy,
A momentary lapse in intimacy.

I think of her at night
In twilight of sleep.
How she bit my lip—
How she wept without reservation.

Head off at the edge,
Screaming at the trees.
"You're so predictable, fucking trees.
I see you!"

She saw me and I her.
Up and down, sized up, sold.