Wednesday, 4/18

Today, after Stockton, I’m meeting Effie for late-lunch/dinner (Moe’s and Chillaxin’, she says) and then we’re going to the Open House at the college. I need to remember to have lit mags available to distribute. This week is so hectic. Yesterday, I could barely leave the Starbucks: because I knew that to leave meant to go back out into the hectic-ness; to rejoin the world. I crave detachment. And P.G. Wodehouse novels.

Tomorrow, I must prepare a presentation for a conference on Friday. And then Friday I’ll be presenting a workshop on best practices in online education. I just want to be offline, in the shade, but outside. Will you/who will come outside and sit in the shade with me? Can we sit there forever? I have a blanket in the back of my car so we don’t get grass stains on our trousers. I have a fridge full of Fresca; I’ll pack it in the cooler. It should last us awhile, at least. At least until they come looking for us. Then we’ll have to make the choice: to pack up the blanket; or to run.

And I miss my sister.

Rachel

I’m sorry about
when we were little &
I tried to throw you out
in the garbage when mommy
brought you home; When

she showed me the staple-scar &
said, “Now you have a sister,
Binky.” I didn’t like you much then.
It was supposed to be
just me & mommy
against the world.

Now I think: we are like twin selves,
but I came three years first to make sure
everything would be safe for you.

(And maybe it wasn’t;
so maybe that’s why.)

You say, “You should say
this meditation because
it is all about the lessons to
learn when you are transitioning
into the next stage of life.”

I write lesson plans, little head,
but I have not learned these.
You write it down for me,
complete with pronunciation.

I can’t pronounce these
words anymore. I
don’t want words
anymore.

Remember––we imagined
that we had a brother, Carlos,
(was he older? younger?)
who had run away.

Do you think it’s he-Carlos
who has
what we have been
searching for, little sister?
That he took it with him
when he left: like stealing
our inheritance.

Now we have to go
find him: bring him back.
And if he will not,
then I suppose we must.

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Wednesday, 4/18

  1. rachalina says:

    I said it for you 🙂 http://bit.ly/I2bZlv
    Love you, Brother.

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