Likes...

1) capers
2) dancing
3) dennis kucinich sailing
4) sailing dennis kucinich
5) old cars (including early 80s)
6) free __________
7) wood stoves
8) decorating
9) writing
10) tennis
11) candle lit dinners
12) spirituality
13) optimism
14) organization
15) collage
16) day dreaming
17) intention

Dislikes...

1) anchovies maggots
2) lies
3) maggots zoe
4) dish water
5) drain hair
6) zoe anchovies
7) people who talk about their drug habits
8) working when other people aren't
9) george bush
10) monsanto
11) inefficiency and waste
12) cramps
13) skipping DVDs
14) debt
15) mosquitos
16) seaweed grabbing at my ankles
17) organized religion

i woke up at 8:22 and realized you hadn't landed yet.
lay awake for a while—excited and nervous.
thinking maybe you'd call, but then figured you wouldn't want to wake me.
decided to write some poetry or my equivalent thereof.
decided to write you a love letter.
i don't really know how i feel about love letters.

Especially mine, but maybe I should start putting myself out there.

i dreamt of hundreds of men last night. i was making them sandwiches.
i don't really know what that means.
i was in my prom date's suburban development. and i was trapped there.
i don't really know what that means either.
i don't think you were in it, but there was this consuming emptiness that i couldn't shake.
maybe you were in it after all.

I don’t like missing you. Please stick around.

the phone rang at 9:32 and i dove for it.
threw myself over the partially made bed.
that may be the only acceptable part of you being away.
The fact that I only have to make half of the bed.
But I’d much rather have you around.
It’s a little too sterile without you. and I think part of me really enjoys stale food.

And your company.

I miss watching you over at your computer in the morning.
Wondering if you’re chatting with other girls.
Older, more experienced—better qualified.
But hoping you’re following stocks instead.
Surrounded by various dirty cereal bowls and coffee mugs.
Hating your green roseway shirt enough to actually like it.

Like you. Enough to make me nervous most of the time.

Nervous like when we first started dating.
When you, just starting to doze off, would start your erratic breathing.
And I was convinced you had some chronic disorder and wouldn’t make it through the night.
or after not seeing you for a month.
Wondering if you’d still be attracted to me, still love me.
And I love you.

I always have.

And i hate putting myself on display.
Writing for other people. To be judged by them.
And I think I hate love letters.
Tucked away waiting to be found and read and reread.
Maybe my handwriting (that you haven’t seen much of) will hide it from you.
And maybe you’ll throw this one away.

Because I don’t want to be just another girl who once wrote you a love letter that you once tucked away in a drawer somewhere. 10:12.

i have a really strong urge to smoke. it's really strange, because i haven't in a while. well, it's been a month, but that's not what i mean. it's been years since i've smoked regularly. five since i quit.

i remember the first day of freshman orientation. the first person i met, standing there in line waiting for all of those damn papers, was katie. i decided that her and i were going to be great friends. we weren't. my mom was with me and i didn't feel dorky about it, because i, without a doubt, had the coolest mom there. i think she was even mistaken for a student. i watched all of the kids go through the line, get their dictionary's worth of forms—student schedules, various medical forms, surveys, the works. and then it was my turn. i had spent the day rolling my eyes at all of it and this stupid line wasn't any different. student schedule—check. med forms—check. and then there was this one yellow form...

"ms. makyl, this form needs to be turned in before the first day of classes. it just says you consent to random drug testing."

FUCK.

my mom just cut me this glance like, "you little shit, you've totally blown this." i just stopped dead and looked at her waiting for her to fix it. pull clean pee out of purse. something. anything. and because i had just been taking forms and rolling my eyes—just going through the motions, i hadn't even heard anything besides "DRUG TESTING". i don't know what i thought—maybe that at the end of the form tables was a pee station—that i was getting booted right then and there.

FUCK.

and i guess that's the day i quit. i hadn't planned on it or really even considered stopping and then "kabaam". fucking yellow form.

it's breaking my heart today. you're breaking my heart today.

and maybe this is the love letter i should have given you years ago,
but never took the time to write it all out. figuring you'd always be around.
strong and stable and committed.
and i took you for granted. and you knew it. and you let me.
and i walked all over you. and you knew it.
i became a joke to you. you rolled your eyes with every new adventure.
and then i dicked you around. used you. and you knew it.
i wanted to change. just couldn't.
i called you on your birthday. to give you something to cling to.
a reason to wait for me. and you did. for so long.
and maybe you still are. and i'm sorry.

i miss the drives. the routine. even the weather that i pretended to hate.
the gifts you'd bring. coffees in the morning, because you knew i wouldn't have time.
or money. and the money you gave. so much. and i inhaled it.
i loved the dinners. looking at you over candles.
shadows on your face. your eyes so sunken. and you loved me so much.
and i was mean. cruel, heartless. would say the meanest things i could muster.
and sometimes you'd cry. and i never apologized, because i was always right.
but i'm apologizing now. and i miss you so much.
maybe this permanent lump in my throat is for you.
a constant reminder of how i've hurt you. used you.
and shit, i miss you. i miss you so much.

why do we keep love letters?
i found some today. i wasn't even snooping. love letters to big.
i keep them too. some of them. but i don't know why.
do we secretly want someone to find them?
make others jealous by showing how much we were loved?
or are they for ourselves to remember how much we were loved?
do we plant them so they'll be found when we're least expecting it?
create some unnecessary drama for a brief second,
tuck them away in a new semi-concealed place, and then just wait for them to be discovered again.
can we not let go? see, i don't think we keep them for ourselves.
do we ever go back and read them?
i think we keep them for others. to prove something. but i don't know what.
maybe to say, "hey, look, i'm a good catch. and others think so too."
or maybe to live in a past, happier time and place.
i don't even know where my old love letters are.
and if i did, would i throw them away?
i'm assuming they're in the attic in connecticut.
tucked into various boxes with pictures and old baseball tees.
maybe i'm saving them for my memoir, for my grandkids, for myself for when i'm too old to remember.
maybe to show moments of happiness in relationships of chaos.
to deceive others. to deceive myself.
anyway, i was just thinking about it. love letters. and why we keep them.

i woke up too early and drove through the city
it was raining and the windows wouldn't defog
i thought about my catch twenty-two life
and went in circles for over an hour

made too many left turns, left turns
and pressed too many buttons on the radio
to the point where the static was still there
just at a lower volume

i had to have crossed oxford street a thousand times
never able to make the necessary turn
so close, but so far
more lost than if i'd never been here before

familiar landmarks, but not knowing how it all pieced together
circle after circle after circle
it's a miracle i'm still alive
not starving to death, or smashed in an alley

driver touch the yellow line
touch the yellow line, touch the yellow line
maybe it's not yellow here and that's why i am so confused
so confused, so confused

but it was dark and it was raining
and then wand-waving magically, i was home
and i slept for hours, many hours
exhausted from my circles in the rain