old poem (circa '05-'06)

"Valentine's Day does nothing for me"

The chatter is inevitable, the clacking of jaws—
the girls hold their mugs of coffee by the cupful.

Their need is desperate; I've yet to learn
how to panhandle desire, holding up a cup—full

of solitude—to catch some last coin or opportunity
lost. Outside, children play in snow cupping full,

firm chunks leaving the rest to fall from the gratings of fire
escapes.
There was a time when all this would remind me of you but I cope,
I fold

my hands. Once, you talked. I listened and we drank hot,
black coffee from a thermos until our cups that had been full,

stopped scorching our palms. Blood can't be thicker than wine,
you say; there must be ways to take me in by the cupful.

But words failed—the need was there for me to crack
beneath a rib to find some part of you I could recall. It is too hard

to find the vessel empty; it is a full cup.

dreams

over wine last week, my friend mentioned that there isn't much worse than people who talk about their dreams.

i've never really thought about this. i mean, it's pretty terrible to have to hear about ridiculous yet boring dreams (e.g. "i was riding in a hot rod with my ex-boyfriend. we were in the same seat and his dog was next to us. what do you think that means?") but is it so bad if they are at least sort of interesting?

i say this only because for the last couple of months, i've been having very disturbing dreams all the time. at first, they took on a more physical nature; people i knew would appear before me with large pulsing blisters on their faces or i would find myself wandering dark catacombs. but lately, they've started taking on a different form; more realistic, more emotional. people who i haven't seen in ages reappear to break my heart in ways far worse than reality and family and friends become entangled in conflict and rage and somehow, i am the linchpin to all the aggression. in each dream, i am breaking apart or on the verge.

i find myself waking up in the middle of the night a lot lately.

what could this all mean?

it probably is lame to talk about dreams.