Bodega | Asked why I came, I think,

because the town is small and eventually
I have to find myself at a twelve-step meeting
in the church where I was a child.

Because tonight I find myself floating
in a handful of water and the water
is the light in a field where I was

a child. People I know say my name
and call for each other and the blue
vein runs down me and no one can

touch me, I think, and I am wrong.
Because there are all kinds of time in
light and water—how could time

be anything other than my body—
because I remember feeling different.

Because I am going to be different
from what I became. Because

I can feel only time, my body—
and did I love the ones in the field

years ago, they still say my name—

Asked why I came, I think,