Sometimes I play word games
while I wait for sleep to open it’s door.
I’ll take each letter of the alphabet,
stand behind it, make it megaphone and
fling names out at my ceiling
listen to it echo back
some mixture of surprise and rejection,
like it’s new here
like we haven’t played this game
every night since la la’s stopped coming easy;
like it’s never heard me lonely before.
names of objects or people that I could put
on the other side of this bed
in hopes of helping it with it’s empty…
Alicia, Brittani, Che Guevara Biographies, a Double-Barrell Shot Gun, “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” x Jonathan Safran Foer, French Press Coffee Maker, Golf Clubs (Never Used), Hookah and/or Hennessy, Insomnia (I’m not sure why her parents named her that), Jennifer Lopez in 1998, Kelli, Laundry — All of it, Macallan:18, Single-Malt, New Socks (which are one of the best things on earth), an Oversized Teddy Bear (you can only have this until the next time someone walks in your room, at which point you have to act like this was a surprise gift for them), Personal journals dating back to 2002, Questionable (okay, creepy) Lianne La Havas Stitch-work mural, Rihanna, Selected writings of Warsan Shire, Technics SL-1200 Turntables, U-Boat Replica (not to scale), Venus Williams’ Sister, Where’s Waldo Book Collection and Where the Wild Things Are and “What is the What” by Dave Eggers and most things Walt Whitman ever wrote, Xylophones because nothing starts with X…
It’s actually a pretty fun game…
until I get to Y.