Field Report
The Year Of The Get You Alone
In the year of the Get You Alone I got you alone I showed you that I’d been drinking in a handful of words The lecture landed all kinds of places- places with vistas of buckthorn and tamarack. Can you measure remorse in invasive species? Will they hang their heads and swear not to grow back?
All my love what have we become? Crippled by hope and pursuit thereof
In the year of the Get You Alone I got you on a boat I did all my drinking at home, before we left the shore Don’t look down now, but this water has a sinister motive Carving out my confidence and flooding my crumbling home
All my love what have we become? Crippled by joy and pursuit thereof
You’ve been sleeping with director’s daughters and taking drugs I’ve never tried I drink at home most days and sometimes sleep with my wife I took a job in a kitchen- I belong in this city’s withered arms cradled in her unset broken ulna, spangled by dishwater tears like silver bracelet charms
But I don’t love her like I love you I’ve been saving my money, gonna buy us a new car This city taught me a thing or two, like how to take a ride from anyone going far, far, far away from