Tuesday, November 20, 2007

i) He writes, I have a hangover and I can't spell under the title, Poetry, Indecency and Humour, in his notebook. We're bored, a class on comedy. I'm falling in love, in the lecture theatre. He wears an earring and a sovereign ring. His face is heart shaped. He writes 1. a wine glass and he then draws one.

ii) I held her. I thought about books and libraries, verbs and prepositions and grammar and text books and the French literature on my shelves and lines and lines of shelves and all the books, half asleep and wound round her, my mind in a bookcase.

We said, It's going to be OK, isn't it. We'll be OK. I walk back to my room, in high heels, her pyjamas and her coat over my bare shoulders, carrying my dress and my tights and my broken blue bag.

I open the door to A, pyjamas and make up and tears. She's just standing in my doorway. Come in, darling, what's wrong?

iii) You are a prime number and you are part of the pattern. For a brother, or for an older man. You washed your hair for him. You straightened your hair for him. I read about schizophrenia last night. She said, I wanted to say I love you as you left. I said, yes, I love you. She said, and whatever, everything, whatever it was before. I, you, I.

I'd watched you draw hearts on your notes like a teenager.

And when we talk, now, both of us are on our knees. My beautiful girl, in my dress and now in my shoes.

iv) He drove me back. In the car we listened to the hits of summer. When we got on to the motorway, we talked of his ex girlfriend. We ate chocolate digestives and honey from the pot, from my mother, for next term, provisions, useful, for the cupboard. I fed him, dipped the biscuits in the jar. Chocolate and honey on my fingers, car seat, mouth.

v) I'll write you a book of page references, a treasure hunt.

IV) An I love you. I had my hair cut for you. I’m ridiculous. I had been dreaming, dreaming, of saying I love you. I had inches and inches and inches of hair off, as you'd asked me to do. He didn't notice. I went to the theatre with my friends and they said, ‘your hair is lovely this length, this I love you of yours, it suits you’. He didn't hear me or see me. He saw Charlotte. She held his hand and sat next to him, turned towards him, hands and fingers around his waist. I couldn't cover my face with my hair. I wanted to cover my eyes and my mouth and my cheeks.