for Giving Up

Always with you I can't use better judgment,
and I become afraid again of asking the questions
that would lead to finding the specifics
I'm looking for.  I think I have to at some point.
I don't know, maybe I'm wanting just the kind
of closure we want when we want

things to end without our help: wanting
everything to swing around like judgment
day and bring it all to its inevitable kind
of pacing stomping un-level questioning
that makes a now unfathomable point
in asking whether that was love or not.  Specifics

that would help when we're apart.  Specifics
that are specific about the thing we want
that we can't necessarily have at this point
and there's no point in having.  The judgments
spinning out into the questions
leading into rhetorical defense or some kind

of anonymous beckoning to the kind
or kindness of others or the specific
other.  So when is the time for questions -
when all there is to want to want
is wanting, that wanting that moves judgment
to not caring, answering to a point

past everything else we could point
to.  We call it desire in the kind
of way we call the air thin.  In my judgment
it runs something like this:  When I get specific
about someone I finally think I know I want
the whole body of my want breaks down into questions.

I don't know if there's anything to my want of you but questions.
I sit around all day and think about the point
of wanting you but really I think I want
nothing of the kind.
I'd be fine with nothing at all specific,
the blurred contexts of early love, the withholding of judgment

until all the specifics are in - the point
at which the questions burn through the kind
of judgment I or you or anybody really wants.               


		josh buermann © 2000