Sunday, September 29, 2013
Teach me to change my oil, would ya? And while we're at it, can we conquer the country roads with a manual shift?
Let's sit on the porch and gossip about your neighbor lady, but the good gossip. The "can you believe how earnest she is about keeping strangers out of our yard?" gossip. And the "She's honestly still kicking" and "She never NOT talks about her surgery" gossip. We'd start every sentence with: "I mean, I'm not talking bad, but.." We'd finish (probably) a 12 pack of beer and feel fulled up with the meat of a good-goddamned autumn night.
Tell me the importance of measuring twice, cutting once. Tell me the mistakes you've made, that seemed big, but now are small.
Is everything permanent? If not, why does it seem like concrete has filled the little sacs in my lungs?
We should be crazy one night and buy expensive tickets to a rock and roll show. We can sit and eat up the night; poison it with sentiment. If you wanted, I'd let you tell me about when you fell in love with mom, what it was like in the 80s, the first time you heard Guns'N'Roses, why you stayed with mom, what it was like when your children were born... If you wanted, I'd listen all night, after the music died with the moon. Maybe we'd drink a little bourbon and I'd promise my first born would have your name. Girl or boy.
Maybe one day I'd call you and cry, but I'd call you because I just needed your voice to calm me, like it did when I was a tiny with an upturned nose. You'd say, "Did I ever tell you about that time we were in the abortion clinic - and I looked at your mom and your mom looked at me? Did I tell you what I said?" [Silence] "I said, 'I think we can do this,' and so we left." And that would appease me. That would reaffirm me that at least two people in the whole world, so big/so small, loved me before I even existed. And I'd stop crying. We'd probably make dinner plans. Afterwards, I'd help you weed the garden.
Anyway, I want to tell you about poetry school. But you're dead.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
I mean, besides my boobs.
and here's something else I want to say, I went swimming early this morning around 3:30 and Jupiter was hanging out with me. Venus and Jupiter in the same night. I'll take it.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
But what about the unkind?
But also, the divine?
These questions are irrelevant.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Don't be confused. This isn't a love poem. I don't write those.
I just wanted you to know, that a few times a day, I write for you. In a way that's not actually writing, but in a way where I notice things (because that's what I do, I notice things) and think, I want to write that. I want to write that for you - always.
Here's what I want to say: mortal sins are sins but so are venial sins, but not in the same way.
Love is like that, too.
Love is like that, too. (but this isn't a love poem). It just isn't.