once i loved a man who was a lot like a canyon. the descent was lovely, but lacked destination. the nameless you. put down places. and now yr hair is a meter longer than i remembered. i’m boiling things down—putting my feet to the sidewalk. there are the places i have been—taking place on a train, in a hostel, a castle, tomb, bridge, or monument. i sit by your side at the water, you rest your head on my shoulder & i feel heavy. the hem-less you. movement is perceived as a motion, i find it hopeful. stretching my body across border lines, lakesides, and mountain tops. in the throes of a typical tree. the ground, with her looming within, asks for bravery. and i follow her anywhere. recoil when things feel swarmy. the coyote voice of you. this specific wilderness. repeated stories and faded stories both. the most beautiful thing about being abandoned is feeling the wind in yr face and knowing it is real.