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MAKING TOO MANY FRIENDSAnn Landers said to be kind,so I made friends with everyone; drop by again, he said, or let me drop by you. It was 1968, and I had not yet met the love of my life, so I said the transoms are open, bringing in the smell of spring blooms. He wrote me that love was forming in him. The day he visited, we sat on my lumpy single bed, saying very little. It was before Janis Joplin, so I don't remember what we listened to, what we ate or drank. It was probably before I broke up with Arthur, and started my first round of insomnia, it was before I walked and ran with grief shooting me forward, it was before Tim, it was before I quit my job, it was before I was old enough to not trust love letters. It was before he called in the middle of the night, suggesting sexual positions. It was before I found the first poetry group, it was before I learned to listen to myself. It was before I met Arthur's friend Bob who had been in the same state hospital, who said when you really love a girl, you'll think her shit tastes like ice cream. No, no, it had to be after that. |
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Issue #19, March, 2001 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.