In the new place you will be once you leave: It is good. I am on the edges of this new country, my eyes dislocated, un able to see where you are from among the weeds. You are on the other end of a cor ridor of wires, so I don’t know what you’re touching, I don’t know what you love. I trailed you to the ends of this rivera but stayed hidden in the shallow underbrush. You will never think to look in the water, because you came here to leave me. I am blinking furiously to catch the slightest glimpse in the mud. It is cruel that you have crossed the river. I have not even the seeds of water-flowers, not a reed to keep me company now that you are gone.
