There is a car parked out front—
its headlights on, engine running quietly
you peek through the drapes, careful not to be seen
and you see me sitting there at the steering wheel—
not starring at the door impatiently
not muttering to my wristwatch about lost time
not looking nervous or full of expectation
but just waiting, as if waiting were itself a thing to do
you can’t recall how long it has been, seconds or days
but you look down and see you are dressed and beautiful
and you notice your hand is on the doorknob, turning it
and you find yourself stepping out into the cool breeze
walking lightly down the steps with a little bounce
moving carelessly, as if you were a slip of the tongue
or an accidental smile
as you open the car door you feel the feeling
of not quite remembering—the feeling
of having lost your page in a book—
what once was is no longer
the world is an empty place
all you know is you are going somewhere new.
Author’s Notes:
I think this week’s poem is interesting because it has as oddness and unanchored feeling to it, while still being sweet and optimistic. I like it, but I’m not sure if it will read well for most people or not. There is some funky stuff going on with narrative perspective that is a bit risky. I’m tempted to try and talk through it, but that sort of kills the poem, so I think I’ll refrain.
Favorite Line:
“moving carelessly, as if you were a slip of the tongue”
Line that I Stole from a Friend:
“what once was is no longer”