tuesday, april 22


i dreamed it snowed again
most of you were there

that's all i remember,
before the alarm clock cut back in
and i stood up to look around

my half of the room has not gone entirely to kipple,
but it is piled, stacked, slumped, and wadded into a ball
to be dealt with later

it's hard to tell where the border is
but there's deliberate economy to the space jet occupies
neat lines, things in their proper places
a dearth of clutter

i must drive him nuts.

there is a picture
of a then-four year old named mallory
hanging on my back, a few days before i came here
among all the ticket stubs and paper relics
tacked haphazard to the cork board above my bed

it was in an envelope waiting on the desk one night
and i haven't written elizabeth to tell her
how good it was to see
because i am not sure what to say to anyone lately
though i should overflow with words.

tags: topics/poem

p1k3 / 2003 / 4 / 22