Summers

a grasshopper springing up in distress,
hitting the blade of the lawnmower
leaping to its death. every day, all around.

i imagined the woman i used to love ("i have a complicated relationship with memory" "you have a complicated relationship with the truth": a series of quips that neither of us would ever say) -- did we even recognize each other, at all? -- behind a rifle sight, in a video game screen. i imagined myself among the villains, poised to ambush. i imagined that if i did something bad enough, she would kill me, and i could disappear. i imagined that i lay myself down and sank into a den of quicksand, meeting my fellows at the infinite depths.

of course, what really happened was:
i lay myself down and sank into the river.
but i wasn't brave enough.