Take Two Before Bed
The summer is over and I still do not know how to
wake up in the morning. I fling my jeans over the desk chair
to be reminded that I have to get dressed. I’ve grown
accustomed to “get well soon” cards and unsolicited “I’m
praying for you “ texts. I used to look for you in every room
but now I look for my glasses under the bed. I am always looking
up at the sky, or away from things. I am uncertain of what to look at.
I look at faces as they look at me and again as they leave the room.
I mostly look at things that have given me up.
I am the house left unfrequented. Joey is playing a Spanish guitar behind
locked doors. He is quiet whenever he hears the wood creak
in the hallway. A ghost, perhaps. My toothbrush is made with
steel bristles and I have become the party I do not want to go to. I cannot
go a day without having dreams of circle burns on my ring fingers
or of metro railways. A nice bed, perhaps. Every broken tail light
is a totaled car. Every time my heart is broken, I want to take a trip
to China or perhaps to Russia or Nepal! I may run out of places to go!
My body has become a bolded question mark.
A snake will not bite you if it is in your line of vision.
In the same way, I keep you at the forefront of my thoughts.
The man with the large eyes keeps giving them to me. Imposing in a public space.
I don’t step off the platform because I need to get away from him.
I have laundry, dishes, and taxes to do. So I stay.