when I say “you” I mean “me.”

When I say “there is a conspiracy
of insulation” I mean “we.”

It never means “me” when I say “your
oil is economically attractive.”

When I say “as people lose their connection
to a larger functioning social matrix, they will
survive in any way they can,” I mean “you.”

When I say “I” am unreliable, I mean something
but I’m not sure what.

When I say “you are a sacred container,” I
mean “can I borrow twenty dollars?”

When I say “the place where all souls
will await their judgement on the day
of the apocalypse,” I mean “my apartment
hangs over a Steak ‘n Shake.”

When I say “the city has been burned and rebuilt
twenty five times,” I mean “the first thing
on my mind is carpet.”

When we appear to kneel in the sour
stream of silence, when space is our
deranged form of forever,
I mean nothing.

Previously published in Fleeting Magazine.

Nathan Moore has been published at elimae, Quarrtsiluni, Menacing Hedge, Fleeting Magazine and others. He was the winner of the 2009 William Redding Memorial Contest. Nathan’s “Anecdote of the Impossible Knot” and “Comments on a Dissertation” are also in Reprint.

Object(s) to bring back to life: “I wish I could bring back my vestigial tail and an old-fashioned Christmas that would include drunkenness, cross dressing, and general misrule.”