by Mindi Kirchner
Reading it, Doug says, feels like an attempt
to dredge up nostalgia
for events that never happened,
exasperating, painful
as fishing in the desert
with your bare hands cupping
scoopfuls of scorpions.
Jessica, though, is shocked
at her swarm of prospects,
whose faces she could no longer
pick from a prison line up,
who will always have a place
in their hearts for her,
as if hearts were luxurious
rental properties trapped
In the zit-crusted skin of seventeen year olds,
which is true, argues,
hope-to-see-you around,
wish-I’d gotten-to-know-you-better Becky,
who, by now, must be on her 25th consecutive great summer
because you wished it so,
though insincerely,
which is the only way
you can enter your life,
how surgeons make superficial cuts first
to get down to meat and marrow.
How Joyce hated herself so much
she’d push up her skirt
behind the bleachers and beg
for anything with a pulse
to crawl on top of her.
Or how Chris loved himself so much
his friends cut him from the rafters,
clammy hands on a still-hard cock,
forever on the verge of coming
and going,
and coming,
like Jackie who pushed her empty stroller
down side streets
for six months after she’d bled,
singing lullabies to no one.
And no one, you guess,
is the best audience for nights
you’d rather fast forward.
But instead,
remember that February
when the engine slipped from your car
like a new life or a mutant being,
when you’d forgotten your coat
so he had no choice but to hold you
and hold you.
Because back then you didn’t know the difference
between keeping the cold out,
and falling in love.
Still don’t. Never will.
Please, please don’t ever change.
Mindi Kirchner-Greenway was born in Lancaster, PA. She moved to Youngstown, Ohio in 2004 on a whim and a Bruce Springsteen song. She has a chapbook of poetry, “Song of the Rest of Us,” published by Kent State University Press, and has published poems in Eclipse, Perigee, The Wick Poetry Series Anthology, and other journals. Other than writing, she enjoys teaching, running, Phillies baseball, good music, game shows, and binge-sleeping. She lives on the Northside of Youngstown with her smelly dog, Tank Greenway, and her slightly-less-smelly husband, William Greenway.