but can you imagine, Jacob?

if we can talk compulsively, insanely.

Pounding disagreements on what we both agree on and

demanding voices

over too much wine

or too much gin

or whisky if its Thursday nights.

Smoke, in and out of our rapidly circling head …

and binding itself to the scent we brought with us in this tiny room.

.and reciting poems, and essays

and forming new ideas from these poems and essays.

and we can do this!

we can make words and imagination and thought

appealing again.

Like in the 40s, or the 50s

and 60s …

do you remember?

do you remember how deeper we loved then?

and we came in groups. Gathered

in individual rooms, or basements, or musty bars.


we’ve come far away from the things that made us


Cam Ie


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s