Thomas Patrick Levy

Author of I Don't Mind if You're Feeling Alone & Please Don't Leave Me Scarlett Johansson.

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STORIES

THIS IS MOSTLY YOUR FAULT

These hills are old. I pull years of string out of my throat. I rest my head against your belly. This is mostly your fault. The years are rivers. The rivers are old and they flow down between your shoulders. We thread like string between these hills. We fuck and we fray and we spit. I am worried. You say THESE HILLS WERE MADE FOR RIVER. You say THESE HILLS WERE MADE FOR GOATS. My string was made to make you warm but you are never warm. The windows are fogged, but not for the right reasons. This river runs alright. I say EVERYTHING IS MOSTLY YOURS. I say EVERYTHING IS MOSTLY YOUR FAULT. This river runs all night. We’re going to drown between these hills. We’re not going to sleep very well. You don’t say anything. The river flows from your mouth.

THIS IS MOSTLY YOUR FAULT

These hills are so old that my fall is soft and long. I touch the years in my throat. I touch my head against your belly. This is mostly your fault. The rivers are the same rivers that come down your neck and spine. These hills were made for you to come apart between. I move as fast as I can but I’m very worried. These hills were made for river, these hills were made for goats. My touch is made to make you warm but instead you are much like stone. Your sleeping bag is not something like a tomb. The windows are fogged but not for the right reasons. The rivers run all night, I can hear them over the sounds I want to make you make. Everything I say is mostly because of you. That is to say this is mostly your fault. That is to say earthquakes are not nightmares. These hills are not made for goats. These hills are not made for all the years I have to yell.

THIS IS MOSTLY YOUR FAULT

I am wrinkled and touchy. I keep thinking there are things in the world that I need to do before I die. I keep weeping a bit for no reason. Every mountain is unfathomable. Every mountain is less important as I get closer to the desert. Every moment feels like weak legs. I want to touch you on your legs. I think your legs are the white parts of the mountains. I think your legs are slick with river. I see you are in the clouds. I hold you so hard my fingers go numb. These are mostly your ears. My legs tingle. My heart this same way.