emchy

dark and drizzly day that i bringing back memories of college and wandering across green lawns looking for something - looking for poets, for queers, for lust, for something to make the drizzly romantic day spark. i found it in alexis goble. she rode down the cracked cement paths on one of those old bicycles with handlebars that curved up and baskets on the back for all manner of important books and literature. her hair was classic pageboy swept back in a semi androgynous, semi new wave sort of way. she wore tweed jackets and the sort of comfortable worn in academic uniform that has me certain that she spoke volumes of poetry whenever she opened her mouth. we frequented the same cafe, and shared looks across the room. i was infactuated by the conversations we could've had.

i wrote her a love poem once. left it in her bicycle basket in a plastic envelope so the constant rain wouldn't hurt it. she called me and while water streamed down my window and i gazed out onto trees hinting at green, and mud inviting winter back, i could hear my fate, but it wasn't with her. i was charmed and afraid. the day we had a date at the cafe, I arrived early and saw her kissing her androgynous boyfriend. they were both so beautifully themselves, and i was still on a journey.

days like today, when the clouds are low enough that it almost feels night in the morning, remind me of the first time i saw her on her bike. the first time lust and want slammed me in the chest and i knew that queer was something more than drunken playtime, something more than crushes on teachers, something more than anything i had ever felt for a boy. i was relishing rain that wasn't ice falling on my face, smoking a camel light on grand river avenue. walking towards cafe venezia, preparing to window show the chanel display that was always in the jacobson's window, the makeup and perfume reminding me of chicago and my rich friend clare who i always did acid with.

i was walking into memories and thoughts of my next paper when she rode by. full of fall colors and textures and i couldn't take my eyes off of her. important, beautiful gentleman girl riding down the busy street in a bike from 1924 as if she owned the place and wanted to invite me in for a cup of coffee and some poetry.

hmmmm - days like this make me dream and want to walk across calm green lawns where anything is possible. there are other dreams this brings too, macondo, coffee all day, people's cafe, writing writing writing.

last night i wrote four poems. today, i can feel them waiting for me. my children like this rain.