With love

Poetry

All Your Friends Are Moving In And They Are Calling You An Asshole

This is for you and you only.

While you have no real wish for longevity, never pay a high price

for amorous junk.

Vehement infants throw themselves out of their white curtained window

and meanwhile,

mom cries because her daughter spent too much time with a kid known

for his vowed subordination of criminal anarchists. Some things matter more 

than others. Among the many ways to waste a day, you weren’t one of them.

Anyone who tries to understand, cannot. Bell Hooks said that there is 

no love 

to be found in violence. My world was way 

down

when I met your friend 

in the safari hat. Your stolen rowboat had holes in it and I was drowning under

the night before.

I am lit up like Christmas lights

thinking about how you held yourself up by my hurt.

Only now, under alphabetical duress, can I ask myself why.

You felt like the smell of my parent’s house,

despite the empty conversation and silence

reminiscent of safety comfort love.

This morning, I wanted to take a pickaxe

to the idea of self-demonized rich babies who cry over streaked eyeliner

and their father’s array of platinum records. I accidentally rhymed when I spoke of you

It said much of your duplicity. I packaged my hurt over the phone

and wrapped it up like an unsatisfactory resume.

You used spiders to get back at me and I was enervated by

your holy white skate shoes. I will not be made a pariah

by someone who has made a home of my thoughts. Other people’s

dads are my least favorite things now. Today, Venice blvd is no longer

the size of you and I have no choice but to give you a pardon

inasmuch

as I desire to see you walk in front of a train

metaphorically speaking of course.

This is the last page of this notebook and

every sentence points to you—since I did buy it in Berkeley

with your friend at that shop where we found

frank o’hara

during that really bad three weeks.

Today, I cannot hear anyone else’s

“I love you”s without 

glancing over my shoulder.

Elizabeth Hsieh