She said:
"It just seems strange
To do everything except the things you say that you want to do
I'm not trying to sound mean
If that's what you want
That's what you want
Do you still want things?"
I drew myself backwards at night in our room
Started with the parts of the day reversed
First this afternoon—
Man in sunlight doing dishes
We were both pretty high that night
The TV played a show again we'd already seen
She was on the floor, peeling an orange
I felt along a crack down in the back of my teeth
—is it a new one?
Are you still having fun?
Are you feeling fulfilled?
I don't mean to sound harsh
Do you know who you are?
I drew myself backwards at night in our room
Further to the past by the week as I went
Five or six ago—
Self-portrait holding dental bill
Pin them all on the wall:
In the garden I didn't plant, April
Unknown figure silhouetted by phone screen light, last fall
Color study (black and blue), age 32
Abstractions (me and you) (on-going series)
On the highway at night, at 29
Still life with red wine and vicodin, 2013
Smiling kid with stitched face, age 11
Color study (shades of white), 1987
Exhibition: "WORK IN PROGRESS / INCOMPLETE"
And you get to the end of, what, fifteen seasons of something?
And since it always seems like too much work to find something new to watch
You just start it over again
And because it's changed so much over time
It feels like a different show going all the way back
And how could you have not noticed it?
But you watch through again and it starts to make sense how
Because all the things that did were so small, so gradual
You never realized it was changing...
