you, as I knew you

and as I went
out across and crossed myself
like a dracula
I did not die
and did not know
that where I dracula
I could die
when I went
out across and crossed myself

but I am more than that.
more than that one crossing.

phantasms of plural speaches
hover around my raggedy andy head
hover around your raggedy anne head
, shoveling the scripts of moments
shining in absolvement
, shortening the lists of christmas pasts
. realizing you have not lived as long
as you thought you had
is a strange feeling. Do I
think that at some point you are wrong
about not living as long as I have?
I bet that you are wrong
because it happens during when I
did not, apparently, be living.
Just a scabbard of me was maybe not there,
the blade splintering into sharp quills
and implementing a cursive exaggeration
about apple trees and pear trees given to the porcupines
out of the mere kindness of providence,
and then melting back together again, unlike water who is
with condor wings
always dissolute and unable to resolve a singular condition.