10 02 20

Do you think that if
you once do what you want
to do you will want not to do it.

Do you think that if
there’s an apple on the table
and some­bo­dy eats it, it
won’t be there any­more.

Do you think that if
two people are in love with one ano­ther,
one or the other has got to be
less in love than the other at
some point in the other­wise hap­py rela­tion­ship.

Do you think that if
you once took a breath, you’re by
that com­mit­ted to taking the next one
and so on until the very pro­cess of
brea­thing’s an end­less­ly expan­ding need
almost of its own neces­si­ty fore­ver.

Do you think that if
no one knows then wha­te­ver
it is, no one will know and
that will be the case, like
they say, for an inde­fi­nite
per­iod of time if such time
can have a qua­li­fi­ca­tion of such time.

Do you know anyone
real­ly. Have you been, real­ly,
much alone. Are you lone­ly,
now for example. Does any­thing
real­ly mat­ter to you, real­ly, or
has any­thing mat­te­red. Does each
thing tend to be there, and then not
to be there, just as if that were it.

Do you think that if
I said, I love you, or anyone
said it, or you did. Do you
think that if you had all
such deci­sions to make and could
make them. Do you think that
if you did. That you real­ly
would have to think it all into
rea­li­ty, that world, each time, new.

« Do you think »
amour condition hypothèse poésie américaine