Study Abroad

Written while my boyfriend was away in England for a year.

I have spent the majority of the evening  

waterproofing my boots,

as though the rain will never stop.

It is my cheeks that need waterproofing.

 

I always longed to be a ballerina,

to dance until I collapsed,

beautiful and spent,

into a heap of crinoline and silk.

 

 Instead I walk, creating scenarios

in which --

in which he is here.

 

 And we will reunite in the streets of Paris

and sleep in a tent like a gargantuan mushroom

ribbons streaming

and fairies fluttering near the entrance, in search of intrigue.

 

There will be pictures of me laughing

in all the places I once dreamed of

which, upon our return,

will invoke envy in those

trapped by commercialism and appearances.

 

Can one really be a hippie gypsy

ballerina mermaid martyr

and still exist?

 

I exist

and as such I surrender my fantasies.

 

I miss him, and that alone

is not enough

not enough

to fill the hole,

the whole world in one man.

 

He is sleeping somewhere

in his culture-enhanced bed

and I wonder if what he gains is worth

all that I must surrender. 

Reviews

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you sure do pack a lot into every poem you write. i like the way you question the individual's gain over the wellness of the couple dynamic. but in general i wonder why everyone (even myself) thinks that traveling abroad automatically means a rich cultural experience (especially to dirty, old Europe)? still a good poem and great read.

[Tessa]

"And we will reunite in the streets of Paris
and sleep in a tent like a gargantuan mushroom
ribbons streaming
and fairies fluttering near the entrance, in search of intrigue."

--i love this. so much. though, probably biased since i live in Paris already... and am homeless. haha

seriously, though... i loved it. and i know the pain... i really do. :-