POSTCARD FROM VIRGINIA
GREETINGS FROM VIRGINIA
Everyone here is wearing lederhosen, no shit.
There is definitely an invisible line
down the center of everyone's brains.
Black hemisphere, white hemisphere.
Were you the man with the deer-hoof-handled knife
that nicked my violin on the way down?
Or the drunk girl in the front row
who kept yelling, "Annette, Annette!"
I don't mind being the one who watches
the person with my name fuck things up.
The smell of pot paints the greenroom green.
I wouldn't know how to choose any other life.
Everyone here is wearing lederhosen, no shit.
There is definitely an invisible line
down the center of everyone's brains.
Black hemisphere, white hemisphere.
Were you the man with the deer-hoof-handled knife
that nicked my violin on the way down?
Or the drunk girl in the front row
who kept yelling, "Annette, Annette!"
I don't mind being the one who watches
the person with my name fuck things up.
The smell of pot paints the greenroom green.
I wouldn't know how to choose any other life.
Dijo Alicia Jo Rabins a las 5:50 PM
1 Talkback:
I've read up & down the poems stacked here & am baffled at the dearth of comments. You have a really distinctive voice - funny, grave, surreal, observant. The Adam Zagajewski poem in particular is very striking.
Have you published? If not, why not?
Back soon...
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