28 December 2012

lucky 13

lucky lucky lucky thirteen
where the sky is blue and the grass is green
and test after test is a simple machine 
aquamarine library routine-
girls in dresses and gloves convene,
the darkest days are not foreseen-
love me now oh lucky thirteen. 

24 November 2012


i miss you
as much
as i miss myself

though i know i must
come back to
before i
go back to

you didn't lift
the sky from my shoulders

but i think
my hands
 may have more
strength than i know.

you are
and proofing time ., .... pause
you are
unsent letters or perhaps

i've got a map to me
and dry cough to you.

02 November 2012

Independence weekend

It was the most sparkling fireworks display I had ever seen. I leaned into him, breathing him, his smell of lake water and beer and sunscreen. The boat was gently rocking back and forth and I slid slightly on the vinyl seating. I felt really happy, and calm. 

"That was beautiful," I said. I kissed him on the cheek. 

"Yeah I told you so," he said, then turned to speak to the boat driver. 


All his friends, save few, were couples. There were a few of each: the married ones, the engaged ones, and the simply in-love ones. One of the married ones invited us out to her parent's lake house for the 4th of July. Apparently among them this was a tradition. A few days of drinking, swimming, sunning, and games. He hadn't invited me the year before, when we had only been together for about 4 months or so. But this year our relationship was a growing toddler so he called me up and told me we were going and to pack a swimsuit. 

It was the hottest summer in a long time and I had been stuck at the house for the bulk of it, so I was ecstatic to go. I liked the friends, the married ones and the engaged ones and the in-love ones too. And I wanted them to like me. 

He had a habit, since we first got together, of inviting me along with them and then abandoning me post haste. The first month or so that we were dating we went to a wedding, the married-couple-lake-house wedding in fact. I knew absolutely no one there, and barely knew him. Because he was a groomsmen we stayed for the weekend, and because he was a groomsmen he spent 80% of the time with the wedding party drinking whiskey, running through the rehearsal, and generally ignoring me. This left me to mingle with complete strangers for extended hours. When it was over I felt mixed. I felt he had used me as an accessory, "a date." But I was proud that I held my own- happy that I seemed to be getting back to that social person I once was. But I was angry that he didn't appreciate my effort- that I played so well the part of "a date." I considered calling it off and chalking it up to an awkward time. But on the way home we stopped for chicken sandwiches and he apologized and I made a mental note to give him another chance. 

It was impossible not to think of that wedding while we were making the drive up into the Georgia mountains on July 3rd. But that was over a year before and I had since spent time with the friends and really enjoyed their company. They were a silly group- always laughing and cutting up. They were smart and interesting and successful. And they were all in love. And they all had a plan, it seemed. 

The lake house was fantastic, hidden in the trees with a giant staircase descending down down down to the sprawling boat house, stocked with vodka and bud light and checkers. We spent the days playing beer pong until the heat and the liquor made our heads spin, choosing then to jump from the high ledge into the cool green water of the lake. At this point I was used to his distance and knew how to handle it. When I could tell he wasn't interested in me being around I would go help the girls bring down the sandwiches for lunch or float in the gossip circle in the water. 

When night fell on the 4th the mosquitoes and guests were buzzing. The wealthy residents of the lake community were really proud of their annual fireworks shows and poured huge money into the display. They could be seen up close and personal by taking a boat out to a central part of the lake, or people could go up to the top of the mountain in the clubhouse and watch the display from afar. The boat had something like 8 places. I asked him where we were going to watch the fireworks. 

"I think you should go in the boat," he said. "You haven't ever seen them before and that is the best place to be." 

"Are you going in the boat?" I asked. 

"No, I don't think so," he replied. "I have seen them before and there are others here who haven't so I would feel bad taking a place. I'll go up to the club with the others." 

"I'll go to the club too, then," I told him. "I want to be with you." 

"You should go in the boat," he repeated, clearly annoyed. "They are really good and I think you will want to see them there." I could tell he thought I was being needy, or annoying, or unreasonable. Of course he never actually said these things- never told me when something bothered him or made him upset. Instead he would just blink his eyes a little too slowly, breathe out in a heavy and labored way, and stay quiet much too long, as if he was measuring his responses much too intensely. 

I fed on his energy and tried to explain, my own frustration coming across in my tone. "I just want to watch them with you. I don't care where we watch them. Why does that make you mad?" I asked sharply. 

"I'm not angry," he said, of course. "Look, I'll go see who is all going in the boat." He disappeared, taking all his furrow and tepidness with him. And that was how all of our "fights" were- him, clearly annoyed, blocking me out. Me, sensing the stress, overcompensating by tense coaxing. The argument, in the end, of course not being about fireworks or boats or clubhouses. 

A bit later I was called for to go to the boat. Somehow he got both our names on the short list of seats. This annoyed me even more. I didn't want the others to think I was being difficult or spoiled and I was afraid he had told them that I wouldn't get on the boat without him. And that wasn't the case at all. I just wanted to be with him, no matter where. I wanted to watch the fireworks together and see the sparkles on his face and kiss and touch and be near. I climbed down into the little speed boat with several married ones and a few engaged ones. 

The dark air flying by the boat as we made our way to the area was cold and refreshing. We were surrounded by other boats dressed in colored lights and blasting stereos. The water slushed under all the motors. But when the display started the crowd went quiet and the water went still. Every few seconds a new ball of fire would shoot up into the sky and explode all over, raining below. It was beautiful. 

I kissed his cheek. "I told you so," he said. 

And as we made our way back to the house I closed my eyes and let the humid air hit my face and turn my nose red. 

All I wanted to do was watch the fireworks with you. 
All I wanted to do was experience life with you. 

until then

i wanted all of you and you took only my hip, thumb, and right eyelash
you were my summer and i was your long weekend
your silence spoke multitudes i filled with a song

people and puddles are both shallow, and sometimes not even there::
mirage/ mirror/ me too.
next time i'll be smarter.

24 October 2012

to do

1. write more
2. write more letters
3. write more letters to faraway people
4. write more letters to faraway people to make them closer
5. be closer

16 October 2012


i am going to trust 
that the leaves will turn red
and the election will come and go--
i will try to trust that 
the mail will need checking and 
my hair will need washing
and the made for tv movies will be bad--
i trust that tea cups will pile up
and the pies will be baked, 
though you will not be here to try them. 
i trust the world will keep turning and turning and turning, 
though its hard to know what is real 

08 October 2012

come to

a summer without words? what has this world come to... 

(i feel so far away from myself.) 

( i do have about 25 drafts. should work on those)

_(leave blank if non applicable)_

22 June 2012


over educated 
and under 
is the chorus to this 

it is summer again
and this heat
melt my brain like
plastic forks
on a

where my education
will become a puddle on the
and can no longer be a burden! 

09 May 2012


We were wide on my bed midst a sea of dirty clothes and unorganized papers. I rubbed your head and said

One day we will think back to these days when we were unemployed and could have made love and miracles all day and wonder why didn't we?.

I know why-- because I'm morose and hazy. But you never seem to recall that part.

So we rolled over and made love so we wouldn't regret that afternoon.

07 May 2012

miss miss

I miss reading poetry and writing poetry.

And I miss when my cat was a kitten.

24 April 2012


I wish I knew you when I was happy
I wish you had gone to all the dinner parties, the movie nights, the brunches

I wish you had seen the sunset with me on the island
the pink pink pink sky over the tall skinny trees
I wish you had been there wish i had looked in your dark eyes then, too

I wish you had smoked on the porch on Calhoun
the New Orleans breeze chattering all around us and I would have made you a mojito too, love- I would have made anything for you too there

I wish you had strolled through the Paris streets with me
those days when I smiled at nothing and everything and nothing and just loved being loved and loved being alive, I wish you had been there love, I wish I had held your hand then too.

I wish I could have talked to you after my chinese students said goodbye with tears in their eyes and the sun on their backs, I wish I could have seen your face when I passed the tests that shrunk my brain. I wish you could have known me when I was happy

I wish you could have known me when I was happy
I am trying to be happy again, for you love.

24 March 2012

Haikus about men I have slept with: set Ten

I went out with him-
(and there you were, so mignon!)
I came home with you.              

Your bach and bordeaux...
I was left with bruises on
my heart and body.                  

My “high school boyfriend”
But ten years later and much
more fun to sleep with              


WHERE did all the WORDS go?????????

16 February 2012

The Charleston Hotel

We walked through the upset sidewalks of Charleston back to where we had parked the car in front of a large old southern house. My tummy was full of Cotes du Rhone and foie gras. The city wasn’t loud but it was vibrant, with girls in dresses and boys in collared shirts walking up and down the city streets, in and out of bars and restaurants- giggling, arguing, whispering loudly. Your hand felt so big in my hand, and in my flats I was petite beside your tall, lean frame.

At dinner you talked about being a little boy. Do you think you had a lonely childhood? I can imagine you as a little boy, running around the neighborhood, squishing ants and collecting crickets. We went to the same elementary school for one year, but you were a year below me. Do you think we passed in the halls?  I was 7 and you were 6. All I remember about that school is the sprawling cemetery across the grounds, with big, old tombstones engraved with Confederates and their wives. I wrote a story there about Batman that won an award and I read it out over the morning announcements. Did you like my Batman story? Did you pull the onion grass from the ground and stick it under other little girls’ noses?

We held hands as we strolled across the road under the Charleston streetlights. Your legs are long and I had to take quick little steps to keep up. The lights blurred a bit from the wine, and the breeze was cool on our faces. Back at the hotel I quickly got undressed and tossed myself in the huge, white bed. It wasn’t long before I was snoozing away even before taking advantage of a goodnight kiss.

I wonder what your first kiss was like. Did you laugh?
You said you had braces in high school. Were you embarrassed about them? I was. I didn’t smile in pictures for two years.  I don’t guess you were embarrassed. It is hard to see you embarrassed about much. Your face stays calm and easy, your gait and body lack tension and stress. Very, very cool. It is hard to read you most of the time. By comparison I am a disaster. I wear my heart on my sleeve and my emotions all over my face.

When we first got together I was terrified of you. It was the first time in my life I met a man who was kind and mature, caring and secure. It was the first time I met someone stable and open to loving and exploring. I wanted to run so far away from this. And sometimes I still do, almost a year later.

In the morning the sun streamed in through the semi open curtains and the “do not disturb” card lightly slapped against the back of the hotel door. You seemed really far away in the boat of a bed so I curled next to you and kissed your head and neck softly. It was still and calm, and I put my lips next to your ear and whispered “I love you.” It was the first time in ten years and dozens of beds I was sincere. You were still, cool, and silent for a minute. Then, “I love you too” you said, pulling your arms around me and pressing your cheek to my chest.

Maybe American boys aren’t so bad and maybe it is okay to need someone sometimes?

23 January 2012

Haikus about men I have slept with: Set Nine

It was your birthday:
cheesecake, grass, my thighs and your
condo on St Charles  

I went to your bed
Despite your girlfriend and
my disdain for you?  

My Belleville sex-pot,
once I had you in my sights:

(for more of this series, click here or the link on the sidebar)

06 January 2012


i miss you my lil blog
i'll be back soon
i'm currently being stuffed in the meat grinder, where litigation sausage is made. 
i'll tell you all about it. 

luff xx lucie