The Observed

I hate the way you watch movies

as if they're a mirror painted

black set before candlelight

as if they are in endless conversations with you,

like you see them as teachers, as if

the mountaintop has been blasted into fragments and

scattered about our living rooms, 500 Guru Universe,

because you never talk to me or listen to

me like that.



You go on and on about the way that

animals talk in commercials, how that is

proof we live in shamanic times, but

you never read omens in the way I look

at you or do my hair before we go out.

And you complain that magic is real but misused

but you never think that maybe just maybe i'm just

in love with you.



And I hate the way you're always reading

articles on the internet or

checking your email account like

you are waiting to be rescued.



I watch you constantly silently

plotting strategies for you to arrive in

the culture, to hold a talk and have an audience and

make people like you and agree with you and want to

hear you, pay money for your words and hope

for your ideas, when you're staring into space

I can hear you imagining that happening, but

I want you and when

did you stop imagining this happening?