holding the fort down,
waiting for the washer to thunder to a halt.
for to take the traumatized stuffs
and hang them, by their own limp weight,
on a cord.
so they hang against the cord,
and are indented.
so when you are full of water and exhausted
and i lay one finger to your cheek
do you stiffen against me
so as you dry and lighten
do you retain my touch.
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the thing is exhausted=drained, so "full of water and exhausted" is a contradix. but the deal is: i love it. like bloated with experience. like a long day and you come home and need to be wrung out. or the poem above. also that if water=experience, life, then adulthood=childhood plus water. dilution of infancy's absolute presence and childhood's ego. yknow? what do i do?
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