Show me how you
learned to forget
how you learned to lose
your world
thinking you gained
another.
That world one day was here
and, on a given Wednesday,
at a given hour,
gone.
Show me how you dug out
the roots,
how you dried that brook,
how you effaced that hue of blue
from the sky.
How did you do it?
I need to know.
Like that world had never been
your very own entrails
Untouched by the loss
by the hole in your soul.
Oblivious of that brook,
of that blue.
You roam the foreign streets
–unscathed–
arizona-me 