So and So

Dear So and So,

I have a headache from the body that’s building a mountain-hutch inside me. Once it is complete, I will move my things, slowly, inside. I look forward to the morning when I wake and all is prepared to move. A shoebox of clippings from books, not even whole pages, just ones with your fingerprints. I don’t mind this. I think it is special to want someone so much. So much you don’t even want them but instead, space in a hutch on a mountain. I dreamed an emerald eagle flew down and stole the egg I was holding. He sat and possessed it as one possesses a ham or a family heirloom. Either way, I let him have it. Sometimes you feel special just to be stolen from. Chosen. The headache won’t go away. When I get home from work, I plan on pretending to build a fence, stone by stone, but instead I’ll scrub the bathtub, naked, alone, happy. I stopped drinking because the way my body floated left me unattached to the real unattachment one feels after losing their sense of self. I have lost you and gained the world. I try to be unhungry and leave only letters to those who deserve them. Instead, I tell everyone they have a chance when in fact, they don’t. It is special to want someone so much. So much you don’t even want them but instead, space.

Dear So and So,

I do not want to do this but I am shutting down. I am not returning text messages or sext messages or any other love or not messages. Keep thinking of dogs chasing their own tails. And shopping therapy. And doing good for the community. Which means I am tempted to join the armed forces. I have never been honest before in poetry like I have in prose. Or letters. Poetry wears things. I sleep naked, don’t you?

Dear So and So,

If I think about it, what I really want is someone nice and sexually attractive and attracted to me to share adventures with. Life gets dull when you don’t have someone to keep you from being self-involved. I want to stretch myself. Not only in bed but in the soul. However, I have come to the conclusion that one can stretch their soul by becoming a missionary or joining the armed forces. At the end of the day, one of my therapists might say, especially the Jungian, that I don’t have to try so hard to make a decision. Basically, that simple faith in WHAT IS HAPPENING will work itself out in my favor. This gets harder as one approaches the age of 30.
Dear So and So,

After drinking iced tea and remembering reading a quote by Heschel: “Just to be is a blessing. Just to live is holy”, I wanted to update you on the status of my dizziness. YES. It probably takes courage and a little waywardness to be a spinning poet like that, doesn’t it? I should use my energy more toward being stranger and stranger myself. I think the emerald eagle in the dream was a higher self protecting me from making the mistake of wanting something just to want something. Men and moss and river-trips and alcohol and lips and money. I will eat them without salt and answer myself back by writing words that make people feel alive. This is what I mean by turning away.

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