You've Got to Start Somewhere by Deborah Landau

You've Got to Start Somewhere

I had the idea of sitting still

while others rushed by.

I had the thought of a shop

that still sells records.

A letter in the mailbox.

The way that book felt in my hands.

I was always elsewhere.

How is it is to have a body today,

to walk in this city, to run?

I wanted to eat an apple so precisely

the tree would make another

exactly like it, then lie

down uninterrupted

in the gadgetless grass.

I kept texting the precipice,

which kept not answering,

my phone auto-making

everything incorrect.

I had the idea. Put down the phone.

Earth, leaves, storm, water, vine.

The gorgeous art of breathing.

I had the idea — the hope

of friending you without electricity.

Of what could be made among the lampposts

with only our voices and hands.