I’ll Name A City Block After You

Hey.

I wrote something that I’m proud of, and I wanted to share it with you. Even if no one reads it, which–let’s be honest–is painfully probable, I like the idea that it’ll be out there somewhere.

These two lines, “I’ll name a city block after you/When it all falls apart that’ll have to do.” got stuck in my head the other night. It was completely unprompted, and frankly, super dumb. But, I decided that if it was going to be in there, I might as well do something with it.

They sound like the lyrics to a whiny Lana song. I am fully aware. But, hey. I wrote a poem anyway.

It’s not a love poem, and it’s not about heartbreak. It’s not about finding myself. Well, it might be. I’m not sure. Could be a lost cat. Fucking sue me.

Is it from the perspective of a cat? Is it me? You really get to decide, thank God.

Ball is in your court now, bitch.

Sorry you’re not a bitch. Please, dear God, if you’ve made it this far don’t stop now. We’re almost there.

I love you, dear reader. Here you go.

 

 

When It All Falls Apart, That’ll Have To Do

 

I’ll name a city block after you.
It will smell like cigarettes and
Draining water but
The flowers will be sturdy and purposeful.
There will be rust on the hinges.
The doors will lock twice.

When I find it, I will be still.
I will stop dragging
My toes in circles through the
Sand I can take down the signs.

Having found a stoop to perch on
I will call your name.

Call it by your name

I will raise myself on the corner
Sharp and defined by this place
Where I’ve sewn you into the pavement–
In the walls in the smell of cooking dinner in
The light cast sideways in the way it bends
Like I used to before

You

Must be on Neptune now.

Where there are shadows
I’ve already seen. Where it’s simpler.

And still these dirty heels
Want me to hurt till I find you.
Just as I left you. Red and smiling.
Hand extended.
Hailing a cab

home.