Fuel Cafe, Great Barrington, MA, May 3rd, 2015
I was sitting with Micky, a former PBNYers poet who wrote The Best Small Town in America. He introduced me to Bob, a poem lover. Bob said I should check out the writing of Laura D. “She’s at the back of the back of the cafe.” I introduced myself. We had a chat about on-the-spot-poetry, overwriting and the rules of the project (none except: write it now). She took the book.
I love this poem. It’s got the structure of a novel or short story. Or maybe it’s in the memoir she’s writing. She teaches creative writing and makes visual art focused on erasure. Check out her site loveredacted.com.
The greatest small town in America
is being dug to dust. First, winter
of all winters, then chainsaw massacre
on Main St so we have no blooming pears.
My father + his wife obey the curfew
in Baltimore. Still, I check OK Cupid
and eat pastries and worry about
money. If you want to be invisible
on OK Cupid it costs $15.95/month
In highschool I walked Baltimore St.
with Rodney–he wore a shimmery blue
Adidas sweatshirt and kept drugs in his trunk.
I wore an MC Hammer t-shirt
and didn’t have a license yet.
I didn’t know then. That’s why
he wouldn’t kiss me. I thought:
Wrong t-shirt: wrong weight: wrong race.
Now there’s dust inside my clearance Orla Kiely messenger bag.
I worry about my dad and Baltimore and money.
I renew my OK Cupid subscription – to stay invisible as I search.
I eat pastries + worry about my weight.
Rodney once gave me a five dollar bill
with his beeper # on it.
Where I am now, dust is everywhere.