I’ve gladly become real

in your hands, stars

moving like airplanes away

from their origins. Let me

tell you I was happy

as a dog with my head

out the window. Let me

become totalitarian

in my joy. I’m starting

to get tired of these woods,

but I’ve kept my voice nimble

for you, topped off these

potions for you. I said

to act and to be acted

upon. The best delusion

is how honest this is, how

it’s just a stone’s throw

away, intimacy, and one

of us will be the stone.

Another ending, quick and

bloodless, would be to say

it was perfect enough.