this happened at the end of march: May. 29, 2007 (5:39 pm)

once at four am i walked over a mile home to cambridge from a party in somerville down beacon street with a poet who will one day study at the iowa writers workshop who was holding a can of pbr and asked me at least twice which poets and painters i liked and i gave him different answers each time. we had sex twice in the dark and in the morning i hid my face in my pillows while he got dressed and asked about poets and painters when we were probably suposed to kiss goodbye and later alone went to a coffee shop in somerville to read yeats walking back down beacon street less bored listening to quixotic and staring at my reflection face me in my sunglasses.

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