Because of Winn-Dixie

This isn’t one of those because poems.

Because the old lady said you can’t hold onto anyone; you’ve just got to love them while you’ve got the chance,
because I miss Nick’s smile,
because I’m excavating some particularly painful memories for a story,
because I don’t think anyone could make a list of ten things about me,
because once upon a time he could’ve,
because he paid attention,
because I haven’t slept,
because he cried and I laughed while love unfolded atop the Empire State Building,
because I’m embarrassed,
because I’m guilty,
because I’m afraid,
because I haven’t been in that house since the old man died,
because I know that I’m going for sure,

I can’t stop crying.

Mood: unsettled
Drinking: craving bourbon, settling for scotch
Listening To: The Blower’s Daughter, Damien Rice
Hair: sticking straight up and out in one of those spiky poofy ponytails that normally require much product and spray . . . today, for me, it’s just there, and it’s perfect

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