Kodiak

I'm a fool.

I'm in love.

I'm in a love/hate.

So what if I'm human

& broken? The ways I act--

it's embarrassing, golden eggs.

Every line I've tried not to think

(here is not the place for control)

about a different man.  I'm in love

with myself, or not.  It's irrespons-

ible.  It's 2019 again. By the Aleutians

it felt like years ago. To be, or not.

That's too poetic.  It's not enough.

The eye of the bull constellation.

It's Sunday after all.

The sky is grey cloud with

one sliver of pink on the horizon.

I must have written that same sentence

dozens of times. The weather can't be chang-

ed, even wishful thinking and longing cannot change

it.  It's true, the daylight stays as long as she wants

up North. Oh, you golden sky, all I want is you.

My want means nothing. In the glass of Wom-

an's Bay I realized what I have before,

over and over again, each time forget-

ing: it is not these things I want.

It is not these things that I want

causing the weather

my pain.