- The Best Memory
The Best Memory
The best Fall I remember happened outside of Paris due
north near Chambord in November maybe October’s
when the Beaujolais Nouveau was released along with
me…I walked out
the door of the inn we stayed in
while you drank with our host.
I wandered following troughs of wet leaves marking
the crusades and the dark fall all yellow
smelling of dank and my life as an
obedient pathfinder Joan of Arc
wanting you to worry I was lost
yet knowing you never would.
Hours later I reluctantly returned just as I used
to at 8 and still no one noticed.
I think we made love that night
as we usually did but the bed was small, you
said, as you moved across the parquet floor
to the adjacent one
and closer to your children across the
Atlantic and I imagined
us leaving in the morning croissants uncurled
and me dressed in black because you said it was
best and before I knew it we were back in
California and you were married again
yet I was still outside of Paris in November
in 1996 longing for something I had felt
for a brief moment but never again.
- Last night
- (no title)
- “The Favorite” Lecture at Maine Media Workshops + College
- In Reality
For the longest time I thought I might become
I could be Norwegian and learn the language well so people would say how
no one could tell I wasn’t a native.
My hair would miraculously turn blond.
It would be ok to like sex.
I like the sounds of their desserts.
Or I could be a lawyer in Manhattan wearing crispy tight suits in black with very high heels and click click click across the court room floor stating my case with brilliant red lips and always winning.
Rootless like a malformed carrot I
refuse to flourish in one place.
I know this is a problem this rootlessness.
It’s prevented me from
applying myself to much of anything: love, housekeeping, friendship, home repair… you get the story. I kept a suitcase filled with cash hidden in my house and a bag packed with essentials which changed from month to month.
Now my rootlessness fits right in. No one is going anywhere but everyone would like to be rootless.
Where will I go when I can go anywhere?
Hawaii because I can’t get the music of palm trees out of my head.
Like Eloise, I could move into the Four Seasons hotel on the Big Island and go down to dinner every night sitting at the bar overlooking the lapping ocean generously tipping the bartender so that he always saved my seat.
And oh yes there is the spa with palm leaves that rattle above your hut while you are having a massage. Preferably a Lomi Lomi massage and I don’t know what that is.
I have entertained myself all day thinking of places I would like to go when I can go anywhere. Frankly, it may be better in my imagination. That’s been a life long problem of mine.