Emily Glazer writes about the exhilarating effects of love
Today we shared a song together on the subway that I wrote on a napkin while thinking of you and the gent whose newspaper I read looking over his shoulder folded the pages in protest and inched away to read about the debt crisis in Europe by himself but
I’ve already caught a glimpse of the editorial about apocalyptic movies and jotted down the writer’s favourites because that is your guilty pleasure.
my scribbles continued to rain after the movies because now that you’ve entered my head you’ll stay for a poem like a good house guest and I a doting hostess.
I share it with you
outlining the circumstances whereby you leapt gracefully into the
sky of my thoughts, blue with amorphous drifting clouds,
tickling my fantasy
and maybe the newspaper hoarder wants a glimpse over my shoulder to read and draw inspiration from an ink stained napkin which peers at the fork and swerve ahead of us and becomes aghast, distended reaching toward you and toward the abyss in the same breath saying
Love, don’t love.
Part, be apart, a part
of something but not my subway rides or my daily news or I will
teeter when you go on your distant arctic destiny trip
but then without you my napkin will be an unmiraculous artefact
for dabbing my mouth clean,
Emily Glazer (BA 2008 UC, MSc 2012) is a writer and health advocate.