Notes toward another poem – June 19, 2007

A man is screaming outside. He is poor, addicted and insane. This is Vancouver, don’t forget. All of the sudden, I get a vision of someone, a stranger – a man, screaming in my bedroom. I suddenly get this incredible urge to write a poem. I can not find a pen anywhere. Anywhere, anywhere. I think of all the times I can not find pens. The same smart ass comment I always get, “It’s ironic that you are a writer and you are a one who can not find a pen”. Finally it dawns on me to write all this down on my computer but I remember I’ve left my laptop in the car. My thong squeezes the black sock between my toes. I can feel the poem leaving me and realize it’s hard for me to fall in love. The red ruby eyes in my skull ring glare at me. I haven’t forgotten what I was going to write entirely.