Mark Bibbins There Is No You Are Everywhere

I'm not sure how it got this early or why we needed
to keep the evening in what we would much later
agree was motion. What could grow so marvelous

and where might I've met you—only endless want
lay ahead, but we figured we'd earned it. Desire our
birthright, rebate checks are clogging the mailbox

and spilling onto the lobby floor—account for them
when you get home; now, run naked at the gulls
all you like, I'm waiting for August right here.

Whatever you say sounds better with your thigh
against mine and caught in the camera—phones
of our undoing. Yes you told me what I need

but Brooklyn's awfully far to go for something
you don't even believe; what's miraculous is that
we ever managed to be specific. What's tedious:

insufficiently scandalous secrets. We dig up fire
from nearly anywhere but you're too burnt to burn
or admit we wanted to try what feels almost new.


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