Honey?
Honey? I'm thinking of all the people I've jilted meanly, and the ones who've dumped me. My pockets are full of old bills and tickets and my heart is busting with love.
--Deborah Levy, "The B-File"
Honey, I'm thinking of you, but I'm also thinking of the windows down in a minivan and a child who is less and less a child every day. I'm thinking of the way the snow made tornados on the lawn in front of the library the last day I saw the college that has the same name as the girl I love. I'm thinking of everyone whose talent frustrated me until I ground my teeth and about the equipment I spent too much money on that is sitting unused in the corner.
Honey, I'm remembering the apartment I left suddenly four years ago and I can see the crack in the wall where the roof sloped up. We had a bat there, once, remember? We chased it with a net made of a broomstick and a wire hanger and a pillowcase. I'm remembering that time we drank cider in the parking lot by the grocery store. The store is gone and the parking lot is a Walgreens. I'm remembering the fall you had your back surgery and how I came to your house after school to try to cheer you up and we watched old Star Trek episodes. I'm remembering the smell of the closet at home where my mom kept the family photos and the old shotgun that is probably rusted through. As a child I used to climb into it to make sure I'd fit, just in case someone broke into the house and I had to hide. Remember that, baby?
Honey, I'm wondering which of my friends were really my friends and which ones just said they were. I'm wondering if my right hand will still work when I'm thirty or if I'll end up one of those women who wears diamond rings on gnarled fingers. I'm wondering if I'll still live in this apartment two years from now and if I'll be able to afford a rental truck big enough for all my stuff if we move.
Honey, I'm worrying that I'll lose my passport right before my trip. I'm worrying that the cat will get sick and the vet will say there's no hope. I'm worrying that I'll never be able to sing with you the way I want to sing with you because I know I can't carry a tune.
Honey, I'm playing tiny violins with my fingertips. Honey, I'm tapping behind my eyes, trying to get out. Honey, I'm tired and it's only ten o'clock. Honey, let's pretend that it's midnight and go to bed.
Honey, I think I'm thinking too much.
Honey, did I leave the stove on?
Honey, get the light?
Honey, baby, do you think it's strange I see more in the dark than I do in the daylight?
Love,
Beth
--Deborah Levy, "The B-File"
Honey, I'm thinking of you, but I'm also thinking of the windows down in a minivan and a child who is less and less a child every day. I'm thinking of the way the snow made tornados on the lawn in front of the library the last day I saw the college that has the same name as the girl I love. I'm thinking of everyone whose talent frustrated me until I ground my teeth and about the equipment I spent too much money on that is sitting unused in the corner.
Honey, I'm remembering the apartment I left suddenly four years ago and I can see the crack in the wall where the roof sloped up. We had a bat there, once, remember? We chased it with a net made of a broomstick and a wire hanger and a pillowcase. I'm remembering that time we drank cider in the parking lot by the grocery store. The store is gone and the parking lot is a Walgreens. I'm remembering the fall you had your back surgery and how I came to your house after school to try to cheer you up and we watched old Star Trek episodes. I'm remembering the smell of the closet at home where my mom kept the family photos and the old shotgun that is probably rusted through. As a child I used to climb into it to make sure I'd fit, just in case someone broke into the house and I had to hide. Remember that, baby?
Honey, I'm wondering which of my friends were really my friends and which ones just said they were. I'm wondering if my right hand will still work when I'm thirty or if I'll end up one of those women who wears diamond rings on gnarled fingers. I'm wondering if I'll still live in this apartment two years from now and if I'll be able to afford a rental truck big enough for all my stuff if we move.
Honey, I'm worrying that I'll lose my passport right before my trip. I'm worrying that the cat will get sick and the vet will say there's no hope. I'm worrying that I'll never be able to sing with you the way I want to sing with you because I know I can't carry a tune.
Honey, I'm playing tiny violins with my fingertips. Honey, I'm tapping behind my eyes, trying to get out. Honey, I'm tired and it's only ten o'clock. Honey, let's pretend that it's midnight and go to bed.
Honey, I think I'm thinking too much.
Honey, did I leave the stove on?
Honey, get the light?
Honey, baby, do you think it's strange I see more in the dark than I do in the daylight?
Love,
Beth