“autumn song”

i had started to be alone.

i had a vision of a new life
built around a small house
outside memphis. near the river.
it was lit with candles
mostly, and a green table lamp
plugged into an outlet
by the front door
on top of a stack of books.

i had started to be alone-
i had started to think alone thoughts-
that house in memphis.
i wouldn’t drive a car, i would
walk to the rundown convenience store
a couple miles away where the water wasn’t so high
and once a week
i would take a bus into the city
to buy meat and vegetables and bread-
and i would be lonely-
crushingly so-
and i would love it-

i had started to be alone-
and so the thought of loneliness
as a way of life-
it delighted me. i could smell
the stale wood of the floors
of that house in memphis
and i planned to sell my bed
and my desk
and buy new ones
when i got to tennessee
and i knew my plan was foolproof
in its simplicity
because i was tired of being disappointed
and i valued my own company-

i had started to be alone
and i would finish it-
i would not know anyone-
not my neighbors-
not the man at the convenience store-
not my landlord-
and that house would be sparse.
a mattress, some books, a desk, a lamp. enough.

i had started to be alone
and memphis was a dream to me
and so i spent months in america
before i went because
i wanted to say goodbye
and because time is infinite
when you are twenty-four
and not in love
with anyone.

and so my friend and i put bags
full of clothes in his car
and he sang songs
and i read poems
to people who had never let me down-
and in every city
i was still alone.

i had snuck into a movie theater
in minneapolis. south america was
on the screen.
i walked out and it was cold
and i took a deep breath
and felt the cold in
my lungs. i liked it.

i had tasted cold in montreal.
i didn’t speak the language
and my friend was off.
i had eleven dollars
and empty hours. i slept
with my sweatshirt wrapped
around my head
on a picnic table
in a park
and the police saw me
and said something in french
and i got up. the girls were
beautiful and i wanted hot chocolate
and i hardly slept that night.
it was too cold.

and i was hungry!
in all of these places
i was hungry. i ate
from a half-finished plate
at a sidewalk cafe in san francisco
that hadn’t been cleared yet,
i ate saltine crackers
with vanilla icing
in a squatter’s kitchen
in lexington.

jesus people on a streetcorner
in nashville gave away cookies
and promised prayers. i accepted both
and slept that night on a dirty floor
in a full room
and thought about memphis-
three hours west-
where i had wanted to sleep on a dirty floor
in an empty room
and i wouldn’t be as hungry.

i had started to be alone-
i had seen things through alone eyes-
i had a hole in my coat and in the sole
of my shoe. i was tired.

i found myself in austin
and i had a place to sleep.
i had started to be alone
during a texas summer that dragged too long
and during a texas winter i decided to stop
celebrating loneliness. just as an experiment.
i walked familiar terrain
in an unfamiliar mindset
and found i liked
the latter more
than the former.

i had started to be alone
and i wanted it to stop.
i had grown bored with
fantasies of memphis
and i had already seen america.
i was bored with empty rooms and cold floors
and the notion that all the motion
and all the standing still
were significant
by themselves. i knew
the wooden floors in old
houses in tennessee
are rotten through.
i wanted a new challenge-
to escape not from texas
but from who i had been-