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klenaSo since falling asleep last night, I seem to have gotten ill again. I woke up with a fucking killer headache, my nose hasn't stopped running all day, sneezing tons and I think I have a fever. Great body, I really appreciate this. I was just getting better.
Not that it matters, the reason I was excited for tomorrow is no longer happening. Or delayed. The waiting and the not knowing is the hardest part.
I can't wait to spend time with the girls tomorrow and get cuddles. I need them lots.
Antilamentation
Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the one
that crimped your toes, don't regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the livingroom couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smokey nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with the loose buttons, its pocket full of struck matches.
You've walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing
when the lgihts from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You've travelled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the tv set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken axe. Emptied
of expectations. Relax.
Don't bother remembering any of it.
Lets stop here, under the lit sign
of the corner, and watch all the people walk by.
-- Dorianne Laux
Not that it matters, the reason I was excited for tomorrow is no longer happening. Or delayed. The waiting and the not knowing is the hardest part.
I can't wait to spend time with the girls tomorrow and get cuddles. I need them lots.
Antilamentation
Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the one
that crimped your toes, don't regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the livingroom couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smokey nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with the loose buttons, its pocket full of struck matches.
You've walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing
when the lgihts from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You've travelled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the tv set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken axe. Emptied
of expectations. Relax.
Don't bother remembering any of it.
Lets stop here, under the lit sign
of the corner, and watch all the people walk by.
-- Dorianne Laux
