I've been out walking

in case you were wondering...

I am a nameless,
faceless,
map of my family
covered in freckles
with a blue smear 
over one eye or the other
---I can never remember which.
All I know is what I 
care to remember
and all I remember is
what I care to know.
I've been labeled emotionally frustrating,
but I don't think that's fair
given the circumstances.
My hair and eyes are
always wild
and I can never remember
what day it is when I
wake up.
I only want to go to 
Chicago to pretend to be 
Ferris Bueller for a day.
Is this getting too personal?
I thought so,
but that won't keep me 
from continuing. 
I have no self-control
when it comes to men,
and I've never learned 
how to whistle.
I think it has something to do with
being bad at learning hands-on skills.
Also, I can only apply mascara
with my mouth slightly open.
Nothing else works.
In addition, I always
spray perfume behind
my neck, so people 
think I naturally smell 
like Bulgari pour femme
and Vaseline Cocoa Butter.
Falsifications. 
My breath smells like 
Miller High Life because 
I've had five beers and
have no recollection of
opening the first one.


Correction: Six beers.


Anyway, I've always
wanted to be a literary genius, have I told you
that? Probably not.


Drinking doesn't make me forget anything. I don't drink to

forget.


Drinking actually makes me remember ridiculously mediocre details about my past;


strange people I've kissed,
what I used to order on my pizza,
the last time I shaved my legs,
etc., etc., etc.




...this is all in case you were wondering.

Going.

I'm going to paint my fingernails green and wear sunglasses in the library. I'm going to be an enigma. I'm going to sell my ipod on ebay and buy a record player instead. I'm going to use a lot of "oohs" and "ahhs" and "dah-lings". I'm going to New York to visit a friend, and when I say "friend", I mean J.D. Salinger's apartment. I'm going to try a liquid fast for three weeks. I'm going to join a bellydancing class next Monday. I'm going to tell the person I'm in love with that I'm not in love with them, check the weather forecast, then chase them down in the pouring rain and admit the truth. I'm going to hope they have a sense of humor about the whole thing. I'm going to stop checking voicemails. I'm going to stop leaving them too. I'm going to stoping exuding the vibe of emotional instability. I'm going to cut my bangs and hide behind my human hair curtain. I'm going to sing loudly with my ragged, shrill voice. I'm going to wear hotpants to my wedding reception. I'm going to see a relationship therapist -maybe she'll know why I'm single. Maybe she'll know that it's because I want to be. I'm going to start a stamp collection. I'm going to start collecting vintage watches, too. I'm going to stop burning bridges before I build them. I'm going to stop committing to people, because no one commits to me. I'm going to sit up straight and pay attention. I'm going to see something I haven't yet. I'm going to turn on my heels a la Holly Golightly, and leave everyone in the wind.


For good.

on particularly gruesome days,
the air tastes like tar,
and the sun stings 
like antiseptic. 
these are the days
that follow the days
I've been in love.

I fall in love with something 
everywhere I go,
scraping after it
until the chase is over
and all that lingers 
are the smells of cold chinese food
and latex.
The previous days are,
the way I tell it,
romantic,
but after a few sleepless nights
the spell is broken 
and I dizzily wander home
---clutching lampposts
at every corner.


I've got to stop doing this.
I should play cat-and-mouse
or---
coyly escape feverish first kisses
and duck embraces
at every turn.



But,
I can't.
I mix and mingle and
am prematurely in love
---for now.

I have a crisis every two years;
and it always sneaks up on me.
suddenly, there I am flailing back and
lying on the floor in shock
with one hand to my head and the other reaching
for
something
I never can


grab.

I always have a crisis on my hands.
I found an amazing website for cupcake and cookie recipes, and I have to cook for class tomorrow. I was reading literature about baking and recipes and came across a piece about Day of the Dead. It's actually two days, and I never knew that.

I want to learn French, and after years of saying so, I think I'll actually start it this summer.

someone's always bitching about something.

I had a dream that I
was in the longest
line I'd ever seen
in my
entire
life.
I don't really remember
what
I was in line for,
but there were
sparkling
gold
flecks
lining the pathway
and everyone was wearing a hat
--except for me.

what happens to the birds
when a tornado comes?
do they finally take cover
on the ground
or--
do they get swept into
a cool, grey oblivion
                          like me?

what if they don't make it
down in time?
do their feathers rumple
while they squawk and
protest?
their bodies being blown
     wildly
before
stopping
still
inside the cyclone?

Or,
  do they float into the
air
--above the cyclone
--above the clouds

to a sanctuary unseen?

Or,
what?

On mornings like these

I open my eyes and think

about how all this time I thought

of myself as a riddle-

with black-hole eyes

and question-mark teeth.

You know me better than I thought.

You say I am vague but I think

my eyes

let on. You chuckle and your teeth

are like little pearls. These

little pearls shaped like a moon from a riddle.

You have plum skin in your teeth

and sleep in your eyes.

And you are the riddle.

We talk and you think

about these things

that I thought.

I remember when you asked what I'd think

if you did things, these

things I thought your eyes

knew the answers to- I thought.

And so I said nothing. I'm tired of riddles.

So, you clenched your teeth.

So here we have another riddle-

one that no eyes

or teeth

could have thought

I knew the answers to. No, these

eyes were glazed, I think.

I am a basket of plums your eyes

inspect and turn over in thought.

I am heavy as I think

"yes these

days are all riddles."

You know. You show your teeth.

I am not a riddle.

I know when I see your moon-like eyes

and little pearls for teeth.