THE ALIEN ATTEMPTS INTIMACY

Gravity doesn’t hold me with the same certainty

As it does others.

My lungs were only designed

To breathe in certain atmospheres.

 

Some days leaving the house

Means strapping into oxygen tanks

And holding the concrete

With my toes

To stop myself from floating

Into the cold indifference of the clouds.

 

When I meet others like me

I realize I’ve forgotten my native tongue.

Every tradition of closeness

Is alien.

 

I can’t love

Without a space suit on:

A helmet to separate our breaths

To regulate our chemical differences.

I can’t balance this

Kind of separation

From understanding.

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