12.09.08 - 11:42 a.m.

there are still places, right, where children wear short pants and people tend to their flowerboxes?

my life can be marked with immersions in poetry. 11 was dickinson; 13 was plath; 17 was o'hara and there were others before these cape cod dwellers and their pep talks about geese and femininity. i feel like i could show up on their doorsteps, hard-sided suitcase in hand and collapse into their hammocks and after they've restored my faith in things, generally, we could retire to george's pizza where i would marvel at the way the wall of bottles gleams in the sun.