06.10.04: New design. Got rid of the art and tape trading sections since I don't really trade
anymore. Lots of new poetry.
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I
Whenever I come home,
I think I forget how to drive and I
sit while the engine idles
and stare at the red needle of the tachometer.
Alice chases down cars
in Albany when someone leans
out their window and
yells “dyke!” or “faggot!” at
her. I trail slowly behind and
watch. Her shoes scrape the pavement
when she runs and if the
car stops at a red light,
I pray she doesn’t put her fist
through the windshield.
II
Home is cigarettes smoked alone
at 3am on the lawn looking
at the dark sky
and even darker tree line to the west.
Thursday nights I go to
open mic on Lark St. and never read
because my hands shake
when I do and I can’t take it when people stare
at me. I look at the girl
who runs the session because she’s
cute and she smiles back. She always wears
a dirty red bandana
on her head and I think about
offering to wash
the damn thing.
--Molly Herrick 10.14.03
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