I’m going to move to Vermont
and buy a farm house in the hills
to finish a dream
you first planted in my head years ago.
Why a Texan would do this?
I don’t really know.
Some might call it love.
This will of course be in your absence
and when the locals ask
I’ll just say I’m a widower.
In the summer I’ll be alone up there.
Once I get a little closer to someone
I’ll reveal the real truth in my mourning,
that in all honesty
I fucked up a relationship,
well, you fucked it up too
but I know you’ll never spend
any time addressing that
so really all that’s left is
for me to feel these things on my own
and to live the dream
that you once started.
I’ll walk out into the forest on the hillside,
surrounded by silence and the night sky
and yes, I’ll know how much I love you
and how the eternal sacredness of the stars
will always remind me of you
and the almost humanly impossible
intimacy we used to share every waking day.
We used to be that close,
even when things were bad.
And I know that motivates your fear
to no longer address or think of you and I.
You can’t cuz you’d still love me
and if you still loved me
you might do something stupid.
I will use the leaves and the coldness
and the brilliant blue air of that forest
to heal me.
I hate to admit this
but I know this is the only way for me to survive.
I expect Vermont to be beautiful,
profoundly profoundly beautiful.