I HATE WRITING PAPERS HUNGOVER

(i'm still working on this)

THE METER MAN & THE MEALY WORMS

i dreamed i kissed a man
who wasn't you. he wasn't
you & you were not there
& i still felt guilty about it.

he was coming to rid
the kitchen of the mealy worms
living in the flour bags.
the meter man to destroy
the meter maid. he forgot
some things on the bed
(a brick, a bag, a board)
when he left, but i didn't chase
after him. he came back &
the dog was drooling on the floor
& i was waiting by the window
for something, for the meter
man to come & get rid
of all the mealy worms
from the flour bags.

i dreamed i kissed a man
who was
not you. he was not you & you were not
there.


creamy little lives like mud
puddles, like parentheticals
they've been breeding in the bread
flour for weeks
handshake birds
hiding in the leaves. when the snow
came it made the pine tree so heavy
it wept to the ground
something docile & nocturnal

i want to be a good listener
but people keep asking me questions.
$2.32 for a coffee & a crocus bulb &
you were not there.
one of those days i feign
recognition at each body i see.
he was not you &
i still feel guilty about it
(a brick, a board, a bulb)
the mealy worms crawling
over the linoleum
headed for the door, the dog
drool, the hallway

the meter man comes creeping
to the window every
night time, tap, tap, tap, tap
door jamb, the door jammed
and you still were not him, not there

creamy little life, extra
virgin, & i just keep
talking (barn, bulb, breast)
you were not there. & still
i can't not think that i was
or am responsible.
i don't even know what love is
& i still haven't read mrs. dalloway