Note: I wrote these poems in college, in a poetry writing class which turned out to be the best class I took in the course of my four years at school. I thought I would get this up here just for the heck of it. Take it or leave it, I guess. You might also note that all these poem titles are commandeered from titles of Smiths songs. It was a placeholder gimmick at first, but then I grew to enjoy it. They’ve stuck.
Seven years ago I started pulling out my hair – giant tufts of it from both sides of my head. I watched the strands fall in scattered patterns on the table and experienced the beauty of temporary absence. (After you left me you phoned, asked to see me, then arrived at the house patchouli oil fingerprints still damp on your neck. I’ve never worn that scent.) In truth, the adage “absence makes the heart grow fonder” is the truest I can imagine – those hairs never grew back.
Everyday is like Sunday
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