HOW A WAVE SUBSIDES TO A RIPPLE

1.

first time i saw you i drew a little wave on an unlined page in my notebook

scribbled a line

closed it

this is how i take field notes --

collections of figures, snatches of conversations, sharp words

“my notebook would not be of any use to you” -- anais nin

gathering moments like a magpie

attempts to freeze time

there you are among a sea of curiosities

remembered as: a moment

2.

seeing your name on my phone -- weird

only a few weeks ago, recalled thinking

how your window is different from all the other windows here

now eating and sitting on the kerb next to you at 2am

somebody must be playing tricks on me (good things never do happen)

you did

3.

ever fall in love temporarily on public transport?

do that a lot

we idealise the strangers in our head
precisely why they are what they are

“the literal meaning of perfect strangers”

refused to acknowledge being ‘friends’ bc i knew

in my head i made you perfect

4.

never will

nor want
to fit into your eyes

the parameters of which are some kind of unattainable beautiful
when all my life i've seen myself as one of the damned

有些东西能看不能要

i try --
this does not make me sad

i say --

these are not the tides i want to be engulfed in

5.

did you know that the great wave of kanagawa
was drawn with ratios similar to the golden ratio

in other words: mathematical perfection

you said you were the sea

once i asked what the waves meant

“whatever you want it to be”

the pull of saltwater is a luring
how you never know
if you will swim, or sink