I can only see you from the side and from behind.
Transcendent moments behind the wheel, or the music was so beautiful I forgot I was driving.
Five: naked-I don’t remember doing that-but for an old sweater, unbuttoned. Sweaty, disoriented. Out of bed and stepped on glass.The water pitcher dumped a fruit fly in my glass. This should probably be a dream.
Spend nights with someone you love drinking wine and making cross stitch patterns on pre-printed fabric. And take long drives alone with the windows down so the breeze can blow the music through your hair. Drink too much coffee with your grandfather. Get too drunk and too angry and laugh at yourself later. Always say yes to the good company of strangers.
(Found this in a pile of things in my drawer. My words always sound like they are coming from someone else. I guess, since I do not remember writing this, they might as well be).
I went into a bathroom and thought of a poem I wanted to tell you, about screaming until I puke about how I feel. Then I left the bathroom and kept drinking and forgot. So this is all I have left. And really I hope that it does justice to what I intended. It doesn’t, but I hope.
My head will never stop hurting.