and maybe it will last.
my knees are freckled like spilled glitter and i compare
everything to glitter because i think glitter is the most beautiful of
more beautiful than plaid button-downs or duckponds or the word
more beautiful than that first kiss no one remembers or surviving
the surgery or fingerpainting.
you ask if i remember and i say "hm."
you ask why i don't write anymore and i say "hm."
you ask if that is my final answer but i don't have an answer at
i have three smooth pebbles.
i hate even numbers and my freckled knees and i'm painfully
aware that my arms will always be a floral wallpaper made of scars.
i don't know how to play tennis.
the veins in the back of my hands make me think of pumpkin patches
and of sea lions and of dying and it makes me uncomfortable.
once i thought if i closed my eyes and wished hard enough, i could
that is what i remember.
i put my three pebbles in a glass jar and you ask if they
represent something and i say yes.
you are thinking that they are wishes. or secrets. or lies.
you are thinking that pebbles are poetry and i am writing poems
out of the things i keep in my pockets because that is the sort of
person i am.
i'll tell you what:
they represent three pebbles in a glass jar, and that's it.
and that's enough.
i have hazel eyes and funny toes.
i invent verbs from nouns and use them in love letters and
i smiled today because someone asked me how i was and i said
"fine" and for the first time in as long as i can remember, i meant
and i don't write anymore.
saturday, 17th october 2009
stuff i should have
1. if i ever have a son i will name him isaac, because isaac means
laughter and that is what you gave me and then took away. or maybe i
will name him elliott after the musician elliott smith, or oliver
because guess what, i just like the name.
you said that if you were ever to have a daughter you'd name
her kelsey because you met me and you loved me and so you thought that
the name kelsey means "someone beautiful who will come into your life
and change you forever." i didn't have the heart to tell you that
kelsey is really just some scandinavian name that means "from the ship
i'm laughter and an alcoholic musician and a goddamn
scandinavian island covered in kayaks and you, you are just gone.
3. three weeks ago i caught crayfish with a five-year-old and
a salamander with my sister. i caught a cold and i caught three
fireflies and i made wishes on them that weren't supposed to come
i never caught anything with you except fleeting smiles and
hints of indecision.
fireflies were out of the question.
5. my biggest fears are even numbers and making you sad.
if i were less of what you like, you'd like me more.
i write stories backwards. you write them not-at-all.
7. my grandmother said that when the sun shines out from
behind clouds in long, slanting branches, it is a brief glimpse of
this is something i will never tell you, because you don't
think heaven exists. you gave up on everything that requires having
come to think of it, i did too.
9. i miss the funny stubble of your neck and the clearclear
blue of your eyes and your sarcastic smiles. maybe i miss the idea of
you, or just the little pieces but not the whole.
does it matter?
there are so many things i need to tell you,
so many words i hope can bring you back, like:
in second grade i knocked out my front teeth during my best
friend's birthday party and sang to him with blood filling my mouth
and dripping down my chin.
late at night when fireflies smash into my windshield, their glow
lasts long enough for me to make a wish.
i look for morals in everything. i think about you in cliche
abstractions. i wish i were named nadia.
11. if i ever have a son, i'm going to name him after you
because brian means "strong" and that is what you were when you said
tuesday, 30th july 2009
and i have drawn you a
picture of a train.
jared with one “r,” i still think about you. i still think about
your beat up backpack and crumpled math worksheets. i think about when
you asked me the answer to number seven, and when you asked me what
"i don't know what it means," i told you, and you just smiled.
"tell me when you find out."
you weren’t something tangible, just a shadow on the asphalt
with burns up and down your arms, but you were beautiful and
untouchable to an eleven-year-old mind.
i need you to know that if ever i loved someone it was you, jared,
with the cowlicks and the green eyes smudged purple with bruises.
“i’m klutzy,” you told me.
“i can kiss them and then they disappear like magic,” i
if i could have one wish, i would go back in time and smooth
your cowlick and say “you need to tell someone” and “i hate what
he does to you” and “you can’t pretend forever.” and you would
touch my wrist with one finger and say “i know.”
but you were gone before the year was over and i saw mrs.
arwood crying, and oh god jared, if you’re reading this i don’t
know where you are but i miss you, and jared, i’m so sorry i kept
your secret, and i’m sorry i spelled your name with two “r”s on
that valentine i wrote you, and i know what love means now, and i'm
waiting to tell you if you still want to know.