(alice said)

Mad props to Soham for all the inspiring feedback she gave me on my poetry. I've been doing some more revision, and while many of the poems are still a bit too raw to post or re-post, (alice said) is ready for her turn. Granted, I didn't revise it much.

This is perhaps one of my all-time favorite poems that I've written - top five, anyway. I wrote it during my senior year of college, when I was completely freaking out about my life, and pretty much on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I actually feel that this poem prevented said breakdown, which is probably a very good thing. ; )

(alice said)

pick a place and start.
doesn’t matter where;
far too much to really
do anything. so i start
with the little things.

put aretha on the stereo.
kick some clean laundry
across the floor. hang my coat
on a chair besieged by books.
no space to vacuum the piles
left by off-kilter ashtrays.

sit down and
write a letter to myself:

hey babe. haven’t seen you in a while.
i hear about you sometimes, almost by
accident, and i just wonder:
what the fuck are you doing with yourself?

i’m sorry i threw the sink at you.
come home. i miss you like hell.

didn’t sign it though.
she knows.
she feels me think about her.

week later
got a postcard back

having a fabulous time, no idea
what i’m doing. does it matter?

yeah; just like her.
didn’t sign it either.

she’ll be back.

* * *

this morning another postcard
portrait of a woman on it
hair auburn, head turned
to one side. you can only see
one of her eyes
but what an eye.

it read
(it was hard to read)
coming home soon
not quite sure how – or when –
please please please
don’t go anywhere
shit i miss you, i’m going crazy out here

crazy i’m going crazy i’m fucking crazy i –
i hear the refrain play in her head
like it’s my own. start cleaning
to make it stop. she doesn’t know to do
stuff like that, doesn’t know how to stop
the head-hamsters of doubt and desire
that run their wheel all night all night –
you don’t know her like i do
when she can’t see the floor for the clutter
she forgets there’s a floor. she’s just like that.

thing about her is though
feet never quite touch the ground anyway.

* * *

put the postcard on my wall
portrait side out

dreamed last night
the auburn woman spoke to me

alice said (her name was alice)
“honey, when are you gonna chill out?
sometimes I think you haven’t learned shit.
remember when you knew
how to wait? honey
(she looked me right in the eye then, both eyes,
I couldn’t move, I couldn’t tell you what color they were,
her starched ruffled collar gasped as she turned
right in the eye she looked me)
lemme tell you something.

she always comes back.
girl, this is just life.

you two can’t walk far in this world
without running into each other.”