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always contrary

by Lauren Singer

You asked me why I came back.

You sit with your legs apart on the bed, and I am angry at you because you spilled coffee on the bed. Because I just changed the sheets. Because I tell you constantly not to drink coffee in bed. Sometimes you remind me of one of those temperamental cats who takes a shit immediately after you clean its litter box. Yes, that’s how I think of you, most of the time. It’s not fair to look at you, and be mad at the same time. Those baby-blonde tufts of hair sticking out the sides of your head. It’s not right that you should be a full grown man.
I need to go, I say.
You stand up. You are naked. Except for one black sock. How long will you be gone?
I don’t know, not too long.
Will you call me from the road?
How do you know I’ll be on the road? Maybe I’ll fly.
You won’t fly. You think too much of yourself to fly. If you just get into the car and drive away, it’ll be more poetic.
Well, I’ll call you from the road then, I guess.
Will you fuck anyone else?
I’m not planning on it.
You don’t plan to do anything, though. Were you planning on going away today?
No. But I’ve been thinking about it for awhile now. Like a half-plan.
You’ll come back and your hair will be a different color. You look good as a red-head. I don’t want you to dye your this time.
I touch the top of my hair, as though I will be able to feel its redness. No I won’t, I tell you. I didn’t even think of dying my hair. I’m over that phase. What makes you say that?
Because you want to be someone else. You want to forget where you belong.
I can just change my clothes. I can tell people my name is Susan.
If you want, you can stay. And I can call you Susan.
It won’t be the same.
Why not?
Because I need to leave.
Is it because of the coffee?
If I said yes, would that make it easier.
No.
Then no, it’s not because of the coffee.
Is it because you don’t love me?
I do love you. I love you more than anyone.
Then why are you leaving?
Because I need to miss you. I need to not be annoyed by things you do that don’t matter. I need to remember why I can’t be without you.
Someone else will fall in love with you.
I won’t fall in love with them.
What music will you listen to on your drive?
Why is that important?
Will you listen to the mixes that I made you?
Not at first, but I will eventually.
When you start to miss me?
Yes.
Where will you go?
I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to drive across country. It’s one of those rite of passages I never got to do.
I did it once, right out of college.
See? It’s only right.
But you’re too old.
I’m not even thirty.
You’re too old to walk out on me and go discover yourself.
This is why I have to leave for a while.
Because you don’t like to hear the truth? Because you’re afraid of being happy?
Because you keep telling me who I am.
Because I know you.
Well, I don’t know myself then.
That’s just an excuse.
Maybe it is.
Please. Don’t.

03/23/2011

Posted on 03/24/2011
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by George Hoerner on 12/04/12 at 11:42 PM

I've driven cross country a few times or narly so, from Wyoming to Mytle Beach about 2300 miles in 3 days. But it is hard to see much moving like that. I wsa too old to consider a passage or anythink like it.

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