Thursday, March 13, 2008
Oh, I remember being head over heels for you, a school-girl crush, literally. I took every one of your classes that I could and lingered outside the class, waiting for you to come and go, serrupticiously watching you smoke, your hands curled around hand-rolled cigarettes. You smelled like leather and sweetness. Your front tooth was crooked, your hair long and messy and one day you caught me after class and invited me to hear you read your poetry at a local coffee shop. I could barely breathe. I sat at your table in the smoky coffee shop and you said this was lame, that you were going for a beer and would I like to come? And oh, by the way, this is my wife. I was so crushed (not that it was possible anyway) and declined the beer and forgot to introduce you to my friend I brought along. I was 18 and couldn't have gotten a beer anyway. The thought of you still breaks my heart a bit each time I remember you. You gave me Slowness and each time I read it, I wonder what you would have told me if I had read it in time before you moved away.