Today I moved into my dorm at school. This year I’ll be living on the basement floor, and I’m working as one of the Resident Assistants in my building, so I had to get here early. No one else will be moving in for the next two weeks.
My sister used to go to school here, but she graduated last year (congratulations!). It felt strange watching her get in the car with my mom and little brother after helping me move in. I’ve never seen her drive away from this angle.
On my last day at my summer job I met a woman who told me about her late husband and how she’s spent so much time talking to his photograph since he died (this poem is dedicated to her). That’s a loss I’ve never known, but I have known loneliness.
Someone to Talk to When You’re Alone
I’ve never been alone–
at least, not in that sense,
the white-walled, sick-scented aloneness
of a life once shared.
Days punctuated by relentless breaths
and the sudden, icy shock of realization
that dulls like apple cores left out
overnight. Sending
bottled messages over an ocean of dead air,
so many now you’ve lost count,
stopped bothering to seal them tightly.
They tumble through the silence
to shatter on life-filled frames,
leaking out sighs against the glass
that puff out of sight,
dissipating like clouds of forgetful cigarette smoke.
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