Old Love Stuff
8:30 p.m. - August 25, 2003
Today I went looking for the last poems that were written about me, the last poems that were written about me and given to me, that is. Perhaps I've dated poets who wrote about me since then...but I doubt it.
I couldn't find them. There were two places where I used to keep them but they were missing from both places. I must have hidden them from myself the last time I stumbled across them.
I obviously hid them well.
They're in a plastic bag somewhere with some cards and photos and perhaps a few movie ticket stubs. One photo found it's way out of the bag and I found it about a year ago in the inside breast pocket of one of my Annie Hall jackets. A picture of him standing by our kitchen table, shirtless and sorting out his beloved comic books. Odd to come across that. I can remember every inch of that damned apartment, everything that was in it, everything he took and everything that I ended up with. I got the washer and dryer (which still works - knock on wood) and he got the bread maker. For some reason those objects really stand out for me.
I don't remember what the poems said and I'm really not sure why I wanted to find them. One was about Jimmy the Karaoke Guy. Nate felt that he was coming between the two of us and referred to Jimmy as a serpent. I remember that. And one of them was about our first kiss, schoolchildish and shy there on my parents' front porch. We both wrote and exchanged poems about that.
For Valentine's that year I took all of the poems that I had written for him and had them bound in a book with a handwritten dedication. Was it a dedication to love him forever? I don't remember.
That was 1997.
Six years and my mother and I still have a conversation about him at least once every other month. I've gotten past being bitter about that, though. They loved him. Recently she said he was the last normal guy I dated.
I did mention that that was six years ago, right?
"What about Keith?" I asked.
"He was weird. He always lookedlike he was scared or something."
I though about it and she was right. His lips would relax into a little "o" like someone had just popped out from around the corner and said, "boo." Not shouted. He didn't look terrified or anything, just a little scared.
Strange.
Anyway, back to cleaning...that must have been what started the search. I think.
