New England Writers II

"If Brett was a cup of coffee, I'd drink coffee" "I guess it didn't want to be caught. but then again, neither would I" We caught the very last train. No, really. Add timing to our list of good karmas. All perfect twelve of us sprinting burdened by sleeping bags "we've got a whole clan here." Epiphanies had before breakfast will not be remembered b/c, well, it's before breakfast. And you go to wash your face and as the first water hits the grime and city dirt the scents of various kinds of smoke are released into gold-flecked sink. Could fall in love with Boston. So early so fresh so like our own private city as we take such control. Church tower against insanely blue sky (the colors of weekends... the weeks seem black and white in comparison) wish for a camera but to take picture of the intangible... doesn't exist. Where'd Jesse go? Or more appropriately, what's he jumping off of now? Towzo = someone who gets lost in Harvard square more than 5 times in the span of an hour. Never heard that Van Morrison song before... tupelo honey? So the fire ends and a cop show mercifully breaks the tension along with a blue pig and head licking try explaining that to anyone else. Disconcerting eye contact. And in a telepathic society wouldn't things be sped up without waste of time of words (when words are a waste of time... that'll be a sad day) wouldn't it mean that everything would happen at once, every idea mutually thought and understood by all or would it just mean that both cars would think of shave-and-a-haircut at the same instant. Surprise at Cummings' love poems but he knew what he was talking about. Random vocal jams and haiku and directions hey did we pass this street already but even for déjà vu that's ridiculous... "I feel at most home in my skin when I'm road-scholaring" I don't know. So I can imagine Thoreau and Emerson chilling at sunset and talking about their days (maybe they mentioned how cool we were) and we build leaf-piles with determined deliberate concentration of kindergarteners just to jump in them with identical abandon yellow glow yellow. And it's been so long since Julie and I wrestled. And so happy I didn't skip out on cold morning in Boston coffee and words words words. Come back from red-headed-tour-guided cool by association chilly invigorated bright clean washed my face to remove night's and morning's grime (sleeplessness and he woke me up and one by one sensing others up like I sensed sunrise on a mountaintop and down through night finally woken by battery spaz and chilly breeze that smoothly slid into the space between back and sleeping bag and back up shirt and may as well get up while not yet groggy) and half-sit on him to annoy but somehow he rolled over and yeah I'd buy a set of walkie talkies just to be connected to a mind that plays word games writes epic poems and always blows me away and I love the way he knows me. "nail the block". What kind of tree do you want planted for you? And would you climb it to quiet the birds? Visits with the dead aren't really something I'd ever thought about so even more convinced when it happened. Can't comprehend death… standing over Louisa May Alcott… how many times have I read Little Women and the sequels? (Only the truly dorky know the extent of the sequels) Dark. Quiet except for ravi shankar and jiggity Jesus chrizist and how many bowls do you really need to smoke?? TA rest stop wacky stargazing thingy and Brett just hanging out the window as we mercifully don't lose each other in the night though walkie-talkie batteries may be dying Do you want fries with that do refrigerators explode in a fire how do we make doggie tevas... Connecticut connectikitten kinetic kit connectikite hey Julie what do you call a Jew from Connecticut... if Mel Brooks had a Subaru it'd be a Jewbaru... from now until forever all of us will be able to say "I wish I was under Emily's tree" and we know what we mean even though we snuck out of the tour and were totally smiled upon by maybe Emily maybe just karma "you're karmically dangerous" (I'd just thought something like that) and my shoulders hurt so much anyone who's a licensed massage therapist raise your hand... the shift from metaphor to simile... maybe represents a fear of commitment? To say we're "like" or"as" is so much safer, doesn't put us out on a limb (but that's where the fruit is) and I want to speak in poetry... the only person who I've truly heard speak in poetry was five years old at the time. And now I don't want to go to bed b/c once the day ends, well, is there a time limit on karma? Why do I feel that once I wake up the weekend will be no more than a dream and I'm back to the wonderful world of midterms? (HM)