Category: Albany

The Clean Blue Field

The clean blue field is a comfort now.
I send out letter after letter trying
to convince someone to pay me money
so I can sleep indoors and eat.
Then it’s back to the clean blue field.
Nonjudgmental. Static. Broken only
by a wrinkled, hand-cut paper
telling me to wear a mask, to avoid
messy foods, to work by myself.
These days alone is where it’s at.
The clean blue field protects me from
accidental eye contact or conversation
with the person across from me.
It enforces, with its institutional cerulean,
the subtle separation between me
and the student working on a paper;
the elderly woman filling out tax forms;
the stubbly man reading a mystery.
I sip from my covered beverage (allowed)
and find an excuse not to look down
at my laptop. Instead I let my gaze linger
a moment longer, lost in the artificial sky.

/ / /

14 January 2022
Colonie NY

the librarian

the librarian moves with pensive grace
gives each book its due
then gently returns it to the shelf

hair swept back, face concealed by a mask
she moves soundlessly between shelves
until defeated by an obstinate cart

slanted winter sun through narrow windows
sets her pale skin alight
where it peeks from her flannel sleeves

off in the stacks he stares at his book
reading the same paragraph over and over
as the sun dips below the sills

/ / /

4 January 2022
Albany NY

salt

you were sitting on the couch
I was on the floor in front of you
you were wearing that skirt
your bare legs pressing against my back
I knew all I had to do was turn
and you would accept me
the salty taste of you on my tongue
your fingers twisted in my hair
I would pull you toward me
you would arch your spine
head thrown back against the couch
eyes closed, breath deepening
stifling your moans with one arm
because there were people sleeping
in the next room …
but instead I sat there, facing the wall
feeling your knees against
my shoulder blades

/ / /

Written in 2010, I think, in Albany, NY.

Photo source

On Sunday I’m moving from Albany, NY, to New York City. Today I started saying goodbye to my friends with a few little gatherings. Although Albany was the site of probably the darkest year or two of my life, I did meet some incredible people here who I expect I’ll be friends with for a long, long time.

/ / /

and so we say our goodbyes

1.
over avacado tortas and enchiladas
iced tea and fresh salsa
we talk about work or lack thereof
share a laugh about the end of the world
tell stories about food poisoning
and a raffle at a Stones concert

2.
later there is a poetry reading
out-of-town poets with an in-town crowd
afterward we have a conversation
that is like the ones we’ve had before
in exactly the right way
Nina Simone is singing – we have to stop talking
when she gets to the Dylan tune
for the record, I am not Bob Dylan

3.
tomorrow there will be Japanese food
and the glow that always comes from it
but even this is not goodbye
who really has to say goodbye anymore?
I’m not heading west in a wagon
never to be seen again
I’m as close as ten numbers
as near as the computer screen
as far away as the edge of the universe