you know you told me that. somewhere between here and the hospital, as we sat, entwined, on the tram. your tall body making a hollow for the back of my head, your long hand a nest for my hand. somewhere between here and the uplift of the guitar, between the music i was humming, using all of my throat. we have never been too good at this have we, too good at taking the shape we want to take, at negotiating pathways in the maps of ourselves. there were three men sitting there, reflected in the reflection of my face, and the three of them blurred together in the furrow of my brow. i have convinced myself of something and it is at the edge of my brow, a line that continues along my face. i have convinced myself of all of this so that now, here, this sunday, i have found my hand at my backbone, my shoulder by my knee. head down on the table, head back on the ledge. we wonder what it means and i think i say nothing. i think that thats what i said.