|
Valerie
Fox
In
the front seat
There
was a whole line of cars trying to get through.
I
had something under a blanket in my front seat.
They
let me through and I was some kind of hero.
Does
this ever happen to you?
It
was a kind of checkpoint.
There
were stacks of paper everywhere,
and
this was before xerox. There were imploring letters
from
people I'd entirely forgotten.
Even
reading the letters doesn't enlighten me.
In
this one box I found the cold memory of whiskey
in
the concert parking lot, drinking a lot
and
being questioned by cops.
In
another one I was running down a darkening mountain
through
dense woods
I
thought I was going to die
but
that was okay. I thought I had enemies. I had enemies.
Today
I mingle with people on the train.
There
are times when you have to tell a story so
I
tell one, leaving out the names and dates
and
you get to the part about something under
a
blanket and everything makes sense.
|
| Valerie
Fox's new book
of poems, A Voyeur's Handbook, is forthcoming from
Strawgate Press. She's published in numerous magazines, including West
Branch, Painted Bride Quarterly,
and Hanging
Loose.
She teaches English at Drexel University in Philadelphia,
PA. email: V.Fox
|
|