trudge trudge trudge
slip trudge trudge trudge slip trudge:
Albany blizzard
Category: My poems
(I finally missed a day, so I’m one stone behind on my 365-straight-days plan. Ah well…)
/ / /
late night Sun Ra fills my empty apartment
with the whirling sound of Saturn
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
more and more empty space
in my apartment, I mean
no two are alike
as they fall from the winter sky:
poisoned birds
my voice echoes
through the empty house:
leaving in winter
woke up with a sore throat
dreading a cold during moving time
:slept on cold floor
these digital relationships
I turn on the screen to see your smile
sometimes a smile is what I need most
and I know yours will be there
constant in a way few things are these days
as tired as I am of digital relationships
I’m making an exception in your case
I don’t know what you sound like or how
you make the air move when you walk into a room
but you were kind to me once
when I had no expectation of kindness
all my muscles are tired
I lifted the mattress onto the car by myself
buoyed by unexpected springlike warmth
I stepped on the ice
it turned out to be a deep, shoe-soaking puddle
(this is and is not a metaphor)
heavy boxes shift
my footing loose on icy driveway
:keeping my balance
I’m drinking lukewarm chamomile tea
— I have no idea what chamomile is —
listening to an American musician performing in Paris
when she asks the crowd if they’re having a good time
they say “yes” not “oui”
flooded sidewalks
walking on the glistening asphalt:
February thaw
how it ends:
a winter breeze stirs the curtains
no one is coming
walking in the street
cars passing too closely:
icy sidewalks