Tuesday, January 12, 2021


In boarding school 

—no not one of those, it was

a boys Catholic one—

I used to write letters.

I had a girlfriend

back home. 

The other boarders would go

to day-students’ parties

on Saturday night

or to mixers with Catholic girls schools.

I didn’t go. My roommate always went.

I stayed in by myself

and listened to records or

the radio

or read or

wrote at my desk. 

The lamp on the desk

was very bright. Too bright.

I can still see how it made things look.

My hand on a magazine, 

or holding a pen, 

or a cigarette.

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