I had a nightmare that you rejected me
I came to your house and you were there with your new wife
And an old hippy bag, filled with my things
I tried to play it cool, in the dream
Thanked you for packing my stuff so neatly
Complimented your wife’s lovely scarf
And stood in the driveway, watching your dog play in the yard
Throbbing with rejection
Skin beading with the sweat of embarrassment
I woke with the ghost of the feeling
Slowly evaporating from the hairs on my arms
Jumped to my phone
To check Facebook
To see if I remembered your face right
Last tagged photo
An ultrasound
Of your baby-on-the-way
The shock of it
Giving me the Heimlich
I know I have no right to feel this way
But I feel it anyway
As if someone were wringing their hands
Inside my stomach
But I feel free to share it
In the totally exposed and cloaked expression
Of a poem
Men don’t understand the idea of wanting what you have and what someone else has
In two separate
Parallel worlds


There is a poem place in me
Where I only go
When I feel the manic longing
To cry and laugh while hugging a stranger
A place where I am fifteen
And am in love with everything
And fascinated by people’s every movement
In a coffee shop
I can spend weeks, a month
Without going to the poem place
Suspended in the worry place
And the work place
And the menial tasks place
The laundry folding place
If I remember to
I’ll put some headphones on
Close my work notes
And let myself wriggle around
In the place
Where everything has special importance
Where the brief moment when a woman
Looks out the window from her book
Means that she is obviously wrapped in something revelatory
And anything could mean
The end of the world