I Decided to Say How I Felt
2. Bones. My roommate said she liked boobs so I thought about what I liked.
3. Do I stop eating because I’m anxious or am I anxious because I stop eating?
4. When do you say how you feel and when do you walk away, because I’ve had both those advices.
Me vs. The World
Don’t care, don’t care, repeated on the way up subway steps.
Part of me knows I’d better get better
at being alone with the part of me that knows.
I saw a large globe at the library today and wondered what it was for.
But then it wasn’t that large-
the actual globe is large.
And that’s what it’s for.
Here are two things to care about:
Right Now, Me.
That’s how people work.
Factual statements make me nervous.
If I were better at me, I’d only care about two things at a time.
I learned how to do a handstand,
so I can learn two things.
And soon I started hating the parking authority
even though I don’t drive,
and arguing that Jim’s was the best
even though I don’t really eat cheesesteak.
It takes three years to live in a city;
to know the streets and park benches and bar stools with melancholy memories.
To love a neighborhood
and to avoid another
for unremembered reasons.
I think the Love sign is tacky
but I love the places by the river and fountains and quiet squares
where you meet the most unexpected happenings.
I love Philadelphia
the way I love ‘r’s and the esplanade and the bricked corners and hilly walks of the Common back home.
South Philly, I say, South Philly is great.
I live in South Philly.
Things People Say
Things people say are like sticky notes,
like highlighting in text books, which I never do.
Like my collection of playing cards, which are each stolen from a different lost deck.
I do do that.
I also say things I do not mean.
I lie like a one word text message, or lighting a match, or when someone says “try this” and puts a forkful in your mouth,
or like punching someone on the arm, when I would like to rip his face off.
Or sometimes I lie like the little bit of shampoo I use in the shower that you will never miss,
or like giving someone else a cookie because I don’t want to get fat. Like using a dirty spoon to make your lunch.
The lies I find are like the dirt in my carpet fibers, like a single dead cockroach in the basement,
-where is your family?-
like a mixed drink with more liquor than mix, with more or less subtle flavor.
Like the nail in my bike tire.
Quietly destructive promises of another kind. I am drunk and dirty and slowly deflating on a diet of quiet lies I would never tell.
I don’t know as many people as letters I’d like to write.
But the melancholy calm of creation has faded in the sun of years and years.
Where do lost things go?
I lose my little black dress, my cell phone, my gold necklace, my passport
and forget, glad to lose the goodbyes.
Where do lost words go?
When we taxi down the run way I imagine the blue lights are stars and that we are already gone.
My roommate left her shoes on the subway.
Forgetting is easy except when it isn’t.
I bought stationary to give remember to someone else.
But it’s Thanksgiving After All
I don’t know, I don’t know about polar bears purring.
I’m afraid of my mom’s house like sore gums
I feel about being at my mom’s house how I feel about fleece pants
going out to eat
I can’t find a voice for the texts I get from Philadelphia
and I spill things in my hair.
Do I even have hair?
I can wear socks all day
and still be chilly.
Every time I open the fridge something new appears.
I can still be hungry.
The cat we got when I was 11 is snoring, not purring.
do not try to avoid performing onewoman interpretations of Shakespeare scenes.
I made an omelette with the time
And who knows what it’s like
But you will become theoretical physicists, I’ll be a very sensitive subject, ok??!
that I should read music? Like kayaking through poetry, song, or self determination.
Additionally, my personal journey is almost as red as I may have
I made a promise to chase me.
Playing backgammon with my emotional gracelessness. I really, really do not.
If you can inspire a beer and catching up
I’m gonna be a thing to perform in.
Oh, just had a drink and a flapper.
I can inspire a pirate till I get swallowed by brimstone.
Ours is not a monumental piece everywhere else,
and my already sad day to see it:
you can definitely just cried at a star made out of cuddling.
A few things make me.
Put down Stephen Hawking to pirouette to be back tomorrow!
(This is another What Would I Say poem, courtesy of what-would-I-say.com refreshed many times and reassembled in random order. A bit Dada since these are all made of bits of things I’ve already said.)
My Sister Filmed a Movie in a Coffee Shop and My Character Wrote this Poem
soy drinkers, red-eye thinkers
lapping up acoustic acrostics
over early night espresso flights
at open mic nights
drinking extra-hot double-shot guitar
ukulele at the bar
wearing knit caps,
soft as half-caff capps with extra foam
in a paper cup home.
Relate to Other Humans, Tell the Truth, and Still Be A Person
Later I learned
inherent in saying the thing (say the thing)
is letting the answer sit next to you,
not running away from it
but also not to let it climb inside your skin, or wear it like clothes.
Do not eat the answer.
It will either make you fly away
and you’ll forget where you left yourself
or it will congeal
-that wasn’t food!-
and you will carry it in your stomach until digestive juices finally scrub it down to mush.
Introduce yourself often.
If you are like me, you will often forget you’ve met
the you who sits next to the answer.
Buy you flowers and feed you often
but even if you forget,
-maybe you’ve got your face to a screen or there’s too much noise-
you are still where you left you.
Remember the colors on the way back.
Sit very still with yourself.
You belong to no one’s answer
and the thing (say the thing)
belongs to you.