As surely
Even the most hopeful among us
Must entertain,
I am going to take myself
Off somewhere quiet
And listen to Patti Smith’s
“Gone Again”
Up really fucking loud.
And I’m not cool
It’s not like I’m a Patti die-hard;
I won’t know all the words.
I remember
Seeing here once in concert –
I didn’t lose myself in the threshing bodies, in fact,
I found it kind of scary.
But when she kicks in
I am going to crack the seal
On a bottle of whiskey
And fill up the glass
Until my grateful heart
Is gone again.
Under this Southern Cross
I too will be watching the curve of the world
While my flesh is being
Scraped from my bones
Til I am chalk and misery
I might even remember
How to roll cigarettes
So that I can smoke and smoke
And hate and weep
And miss you with all my flesh peeled off of me.
(again, fail on the heat, but at least we’ve broken up – don’t we need to be in love)
eleanor j jackson 