At times I’m closer,
then you are,
as if we’re taking turns,
right now we’re close enough to stop paying attention.
When you turn
I turn the same way,
I’m going to start carrying around one of those cool telescopes that opens up by pulling out of itself,
because it lets you see how far away you are
from what you’re close to.
Right now I think you’re not as close as I am,
not as close as I am to you,
it isn’t the same distance on both sides, as if it’s a talk show or other show we’re watching together
but not in the same room.
Sometimes it’s better to wait for somebody else to go first—
I often wait for you
while you’re waiting for me,
do you think it’s normal?
Of course, there are times when you’re close to something you don’t even notice,
it depends on what you need
or what you like:
what you need to like—
I don’t want you to feel distant, like a person in the rear of a large auditorium.
We often place our hands on top of each other like a layer cake
with nothing between the layers,
as if we’re closer than we think,
when you ask for something I’m going to hand it over right away,
without even thinking,
I’m going to tell you to take what you want,
is there anything else you want me to admit?
I’m showing you the undersides of my wrists
so you’ll see I’m serious,
you often feel closer than something that is actually close to me,
closer and closer,
like a close up:
it brings to mind the sostenuto pedal that keeps one part where it is while the other moves on.
I’m not ignoring the erosion of trust that isn’t meant to last,
not at all,
when you stick in your earrings I feel the posts,
sometimes I think we’re close enough to see our own reflections on the curved screens of our eyeballs,
close enough to move away from each other.
If you come any closer I’m going to ask you to leave.