on the day of Emily’s wedding

December 16, 2006

i cut myself on the back of my knee
with a blue razor blade
a bite, reminds me of
gentle teeth on
the edge of my lip. 

i put my head back on the edge
of the bathtub and look
at my

mixing with the water, the red
looks like more than it is.
it stings a little
and i wonder 
i can’t shave
without cutting myself at least once

head achy, chapped lips
still shaky from borrowed tequila
margeritas and late-night burritos
and MATT & KIM singing
yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah

Charlie made us drinks
that tasted like Lifesavers and were
the color of sunsets 
over water,
or maybe trees in the country
in autumn
they went away too quickly
and i 
laughed a little 
even though it wasn’t funnier,
it was just easier to laugh.

bicycling through dark downtown,
3 am and all’s well
weaving through parked cars and shouting
under our breath
Angie smoked a cigarette
and the spirals reminded me of 
and daydreams
and the steam on the surface of the water
when i cut myself 

Charlie is probably the skinniest person
i have ever met, 
and he has a comforter that’s tie-dyed in
all shades of 
red and blue and green and yellow
and his music collection,
(he works at a record store)
there isn’t time!
to listen
to them all.
i sat on the floor and listened to high school stories
i didn’t know.

Angie and i mixed a margerita in her
the stickers on the plastic made it
hard to see
how much tequila we used
and the strawberry mixer wasn’t enough
so we used Mountain Dew
and took our bicycles across the campus
past the tower
where i knew he was sitting,
probably drawing
or being sad
or trying to pretend like he knew what he wanted.

Charlie asked us,
how can you get lost
in Lake Park?  it’s
a straight line.
Angie just said
shut up, we were drunk
and we slipped over the hill
onto the invisible path
going in 
until we found the swings 
and chain link 
tennis courts
and drank ourselves stupid
and leaned back to see the stars
but it was sort of cloudy
so i could only see two
very close
to each other

she told me that she was glad that i liked him
and i was glad that 
i liked him, too,
because even if he weighs only a hundred pounds,
he’s a nice boy for her.
my head got tired
and i wanted to lie down in the sand
beneath the swings
and smell the cold of December 
or maybe go down to the waterfront
and put my hands in the 
think about Erie

we called our best friend
and she didn’t answer
so we left a message
but all
we did
was laugh
and i want to ask her what she thinks of it

it’s nice
to let go of responsiblity,
so here is the brilliant MIT student
wobbling drunkenly
down Oakland
hair ruffled,
coat too warm
mortal, too,
good at fucking up
good at
getting fucked up

good at falling asleep
with her face
pressed against a flannel pillowcase
waking up for George Webb’s
driving home hungover

and my hand shakes a little
so my razor
and i touch the cut, annoyed
because it’s going to hurt
all day,
and i want to go back to sleep
for a little while.



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