after graduation I would stop by her house
and report on what I was doing with
my time
I told her about a friend of mine
who was writing poetry by staring into
a candle and the candle would inspire
pomes
she made me promise I wouldn’t ever
do it; promise me, I remember her saying
promise me…
and I promised.
she thought
the devil would
come into my soul
because I would be hypnotized
by the candle
she thought I was silly
running around late at night
drinking coffee and tearing up
bits of paper
wanting to be a god
of my own
I don’t recall any other girl
ever being so worried
about the outcome
of my soul
at least
not in that way
© 2007 woundedlordliterature
April 5, 2007
ШАМРО
untitled # 597
I had a dream this morning about Teresa N.
She was mad at me; she said I kicked her garage door
I told her ‘I didn’t kick the garage door.’
and she said, ‘and now he’s going to deny kicking the garage!’
I somehow remember this as one of our last conversations we had
face to face.
It was as clear as a bell and I’ve thought about it for a good part of the day
for two reasons…
The first being, did we really have this conversation and was it that important?
and second, what else was I supposed to be denying… because she said it like I was denying something else to her?
If it was that night; the last night we spoke face to face, I remember I was trying to talk her into moving up to Jersey to live with me to get out of her oppressive house.
I think her mother was listening through the garage door and …
It will be about eighteen years since I last saw her… and I’m thinking about what she meant by kicking the garage…She lived not a mile from my parent’s house and when I moved back to Florida we never spoke or saw each other. I’d walk by her house from time to time and I think she saw me; but never came around…
We were never in love; she enjoyed my attention… we were friends…she hated the Beatles. When we were 16 she had a 1972 Cadillac; huge and white. Then she got a brand new Camaro that we rode around in before that hurricane; right before I went in for that year…she was my sort of girlfriend at the time…but I had forgotten that when I got out…
I probably know why she never forgave me… there was one night and I didn’t want to take advantage of her and I think she misunderstood. Somehow I don’t think that was it either…it was after a few friends came by that she…
I had stopped thinking about her for a long time; those sorts of things leave a bad taste… She never gave me the real story when I called from Jersey and perhaps it never really mattered. Maybe after I left, so did whatever idea she had…
But it is funny; the first time I met her she sang me Drive My Car, now when I hear it I think of her and she hated the Beatles.
© 2007 woundedlordliterature
April 5, 2007
ШАМРО
She was mad at me; she said I kicked her garage door
I told her ‘I didn’t kick the garage door.’
and she said, ‘and now he’s going to deny kicking the garage!’
I somehow remember this as one of our last conversations we had
face to face.
It was as clear as a bell and I’ve thought about it for a good part of the day
for two reasons…
The first being, did we really have this conversation and was it that important?
and second, what else was I supposed to be denying… because she said it like I was denying something else to her?
If it was that night; the last night we spoke face to face, I remember I was trying to talk her into moving up to Jersey to live with me to get out of her oppressive house.
I think her mother was listening through the garage door and …
It will be about eighteen years since I last saw her… and I’m thinking about what she meant by kicking the garage…She lived not a mile from my parent’s house and when I moved back to Florida we never spoke or saw each other. I’d walk by her house from time to time and I think she saw me; but never came around…
We were never in love; she enjoyed my attention… we were friends…she hated the Beatles. When we were 16 she had a 1972 Cadillac; huge and white. Then she got a brand new Camaro that we rode around in before that hurricane; right before I went in for that year…she was my sort of girlfriend at the time…but I had forgotten that when I got out…
I probably know why she never forgave me… there was one night and I didn’t want to take advantage of her and I think she misunderstood. Somehow I don’t think that was it either…it was after a few friends came by that she…
I had stopped thinking about her for a long time; those sorts of things leave a bad taste… She never gave me the real story when I called from Jersey and perhaps it never really mattered. Maybe after I left, so did whatever idea she had…
But it is funny; the first time I met her she sang me Drive My Car, now when I hear it I think of her and she hated the Beatles.
© 2007 woundedlordliterature
April 5, 2007
ШАМРО
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