Poems from the Weekend (Oct. 31- Nov. 2)

Halloween, all-saints day, day of the dead, time-change, and I need more sleep.

1:
There are probably a thousand places I could navigate again without thinking about.
A whole big long list.
I wouldn’t have to look up maps. I wouldn’t have to double check my direction.
I’d just know.
I know which direction to turn in my house without thinking about it, even if I haven’t been home in years.
I wonder what my brain is doing with all that knowledge while I’m forgetting I know it.

2:
He was the sort of man who I could have told to go to the store for me,
Who would have forgotten what exactly he was supposed to buy, and get beer instead
And I would lightly yell at him,
Just glad he’d done something for me. Because sometimes I don’t like being strong.

3:
I wish I just had one problem, like the women in novels
A big, honking, thing of a thing
That could be easily solved by a man,
A sense of humor
And really good, very detailed, sex.
Then I’d be perfect after that got solved.

4:
Every time I go back to visit my family
I see my mother involved with my brother’s life.
She can name all his friends, all his friend’s moms.
She knows which colleges he applied for,
She knows how much homework he finished,
And what he has to get done tomorrow,
And how much gas is in his car.
And which of his friends are dating, and when play rehearsals are.
It makes me want to cry.
To say,
Mom,
Why didn’t you care so much about me?
Why wasn’t I good enough?

5:
I pack my books in old Keurig cups cardboard boxes.
That way they’re stackable, and not too heavy.
I have to decide:
Am I taking Tolkien, or would he be ok by himself?
Matilda is coming, there’s no doubt about that.
Leaves of Grass I can find online, but I like holding.
Auden has to come, he’d be lonely otherwise.
Princess Bride is comfort self material, check.
Eyre, Emma, Pratchett, and O’Henry are a shelf by themselves.
Dianna Wynne Jones got me through the summer of ’11
I can’t leave her.
My people travel well. They don’t complain unless it’s raining.

6:
I told you,
You’d leave me,
Don’t you remember?
I said, you’ll get tired of me,
Like they all do,
Up and down you said no.
But I waited.
And there you went.

7:
I like being up early.
I don’t like waking up early.
My time of day is when it’s quiet.
And dark.
A couple bugs still up,
And twelve dollar Target lamps,
Laptops, and wifi,
And Arnold Palmers.

8:
I had someone to meet at 6:45.
I got off work at 5.
I couldn’t afford to get something to eat,
In a café where I could sit.
Starbucks. I could sit and work, but not get anything cheap to snack on.
I brought a book with me, if I could find a place.
I drove around and got lost,
And my phone kept telling me where to turn.
I can’t afford to waste this gas,
But I couldn’t find a place to pull over,
And sit.
Is this what it’s like being homeless?
Trying to find quiet, where no one will bother you
Until you have somewhere to be at a specific time?
Shampoo aisles suck up a lot of time.
So do craft stores.

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