thank you notes app for giving me automatic line breaks.
alternative title: ‘weird autumn’
in my dreams it’s summer
and the air is bone dry, no moisture, so
sterile that taking too deep a breath
stings. the mattress in the empty
swimming pool is sprouting weeds. the
clouds turn the sky night-dark and the
trees vibrate, stretching their limbs out in
anticipation. it’s going to be a proper
summer storm, the kind that cleaves the
world cleanly through. i walk through the
lot and up the hill, up the hill, up the hill,
where the grass grows waist-deep and it
feels like swimming. lightning cracks
through the air and snaps shadows into
the edges of the old power plant.
and then i ask you if
you’ve heard the story of the boy who
wanted to learn how to shiver. ever since
he was young, he couldn’t seem to feel
fear, so when he grew up he set out to find
something that would make him shiver. he
spent a night beneath the gallows, where
seven men were hanging. he spent three
nights in a haunted castle and met
strange demons, some which danced and
some which did not. he encountered many
enemies, but he adventured fearlessly and
ended up marrying the king’s daughter.
and then lightning
charges the air and we look up at the sky
but God is silent. and the stars are on fire.
and still, the trees keep stretching their
endless limbs. you tell me about how you
went to the beach and the light hit the
water and you wondered how far down it
went, if we could swim to the end of the
sun. and then you ask me if the boy ever
found something to make him shiver.
and i say, “cold water.”
and i say, “and love.”