8 Nov 2013, 1:41pm

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In the next life (after Neruda)

Let’s go camping. You don’t need to work. I

don’t need to work. We’ll just send them all

away. Stop the pickup trucks, the movers,

and the well-drillers. We’ll take a long, long,

vacation. Remember Lucille Ball in that big

RV carrying all those rocks around? That’ll

be you. I’ll be DesiRicky, concentrate on

driving, making sure we don’t fall off the

cliff. If the RV breaks, we’ll pitch a tent,

sleep wherever we are. It won’t be difficult,

because the difficult part is past. When I say

I love you then/there it will mean the most

ever. Because we will have climbed a

mountain by then.

Every life is different, every fire. Sometimes

you know the end before you even set out

for it. On foot. Your feet. My feet. But you

want it so badly. So you work backwards.

You think What would it take to get there?

From the fire to the fire building. From here

to there. You go gather the wood. You store

it up like a squirrel with nuts. You

disassemble/assemble. You un-make. Until

you stop ordering the words around / they

fall out of your pockets. Then I’ll gather the

wood becomes We’ll gather the wood. It all

works out. Traigamos leña. Haremos fuego

en la montaña.

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