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JUMP THE TURNSTILE
Dylan Thomas said Do not go gentle into that good night,
& as far as — know — never did & instead rage, raged against it — cannot tell you how many nights got swallowed up & how every stranger seemed more beautiful than the last when — could not go straight home without blacking — brain & taking whatever anyone offered with only — toothbrush, underwear, identification in a bag & never enough money for all the drinks it would take to get there & -- knew what — was doing, denying reality its agency & — body allowed it, was all for it in fact — never even woke up with so much as a headache, just a soft-edged pocket of loss & — friends gave — funny looks when -- asked Where did we go last night again? or Did we have fun? but it did not bother — not to know & unconcern was bliss because sometimes people go into the night & do not come home, so much of your life just isn’t yours & all your plans & persistence can be swept away in a second that has nothing to do with you & reality denies you agency every single day but Simone Weil said Grace fills empty spaces, so in a way — was taking the only action — could by nullifying — own agency altogether so that it couldn’t be taken from — because that felt like the closest thing: weaken the brain’s connection to its cells so that memories cannot take hold because without memories life is like a familiar & undemanding story about a character very much like yourself, a character you feel little attachment to & no responsibility for, really — just watched her blaze by, but Sylvia Plath said There is a charge, a very large charge & — can tell you there is but — would have paid it, would have paid anything & many nights — jumped the turnstile, laughing at the echo of — own laughter down subway tunnels & — have woken up wondering how — even made it to bed & the brain has left the body behind for dead over & over again -- have profaned & discarded the self but limp & sly & with stones in her pockets, she crawled back into m e |
