My belly hurts. Either I am
hungry because you're being a secret, or
I ate too many chocolate truffles.
Clarity of thought is most frequently achieved while on the toilet.
Beans go right through me; that's why my bowl is full of them.
I'll know what I think about you in a few hours.
It seems all I talk about this year is food and last year
I talked about books. Next year I'll talk about ravens. I want to
talk about where earthquakes don't happen-but I can't.
Listen: I'm exhausted. I haven't stopped trembling since
the first time I heard you speak my name to someone else.
I have had four dreams in my life. Tell me
there were more and I'll know you've been trespassing.
I have loved four women in my life. Tell me
there were more and my heart will break again.
I have lived in four cities. Tell me
their streets were for me and we are no longer brothers.
I have done four truly good things in my life. Tell me
they were unselfish and I'll know we are strangers.
I have heard elegies for four friends in my life. Tell me
this pattern of quartets holds so I will not dread another.
I have written four great letters. Tell me
they are charred and you'll see the words inked on my back and chest.
I have had four good ideas in my life. Tell me
there's another in me still and we'll drink 'til it wakes up.
I have four-
Why do I tell you these things? Because I've been looking for you:
I've been talking all day, and you are the first to quiet me.
About the author:
Jeremy D. Campbell was born and raised in Michigan, where he studied English Literature at Michigan State University. Since then he's moved around a bit. Now he's living in Ann Arbor for awhile. He's currently co-writing a science fiction novel and working on a stage play. If you'd like to reach him, just e-mail firstname.lastname@example.org.
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