Hope has fluxed us
I wrote this poem based on a drawing by my friend Jeff Beaver.
—
Hope has fluxed us
I’ve retraced my steps a thousand times
but still I don’t remember
……………………….what happened—
…………..where she went, where I went, how
…………..we separated, why we’re not together
………………………..when we should be.
…………………………………..Or should we be?
I met her at the costume party. She dressed as a first-class
…………..pirate—so she told me through sips of wine the color of her lips—
………………………..speech slurred—
………………………..the most delicate pirate I’d ever met.
…………..She said I looked beautiful.
………………………. So was she.
You introduced me to vices.
You lit my first cigarette. You were the first…….to touch me.
Does she remember the first time we—
…………..in the room with the green-striped couch with the windows…….open?
I heard robins chirping—“how cliché!” she laughed.
………………………How could I forget that laugh?
Does she remember the last time we
…………..saw each other? She stood across a room …….of strangers,
…………..mutual friends—Does she see me? Does she see me?—
………………………..Her brown eyes caught mine—a nod.
…………………………………….That was that.
I wonder about tomorrow. That letter I wrote—
…………..that lie I told myself. …..She’ll respond.
…………..I imagine which words she’ll choose—
…………..like—love—forever—someday—always—
………………………………………………………………never-again.
Hope—that song she sang, the birds, the open window—
………….has found us. Hope—I tell myself, locked away—has fucked us.
We’re in transit. We’re…….in flux—
……………………………………………………………….maybe—forever.
November 6, 2011