DRIVE HOME

Marty Correia

You grumble how the hostess flaunted her

garden yet deprived you of a coveted

sun-heavy tomato. Then, replay a dull

weekender's account of his

farm-to-table-to-Instagram breakfast. 


In our midnight car you lament people who

don't talk about what really matters. You

beg me to ask you something serious. 


I am a lone drowsy soldier. I ask myself if this

battle is for or against your disquiet. You sigh and

play radio station roulette. 

We get home. We slam doors. We

sleep. At three in the morning I

wake. You deserve some questions. 


       On whose hands do I count my

       regrets? Do I lie when I read your

       tealeaves? 


       Who else would love

       me? 


              I don't think I want the

              answer. 


       Why am I nostalgic for the times when I could write a bad

       check? Was the train really too close or did I just want to

       grab your hand? 


       Why isn’t there a yoga based on Pompeii's ashen poses? Where was I

       during the bruised November you slept through Thanksgiving? 


       I was repairing holes in the wall. What's

       wrong with a dollar-store sympathy card? 


My alarm rakes us, Sunday morning

piles of sleep. Your pillow-wrinkled cheek settles into

my shoulder's surrender.

 

Marty Correia

writes fiction and poetry in the East Village where she has lived with conceptual artist Kate Conroy since 1996. Marty’s work has appeared in The Mailer Review, Cagibi, Omnibus!, Sinister Wisdom, Punk Soul Poet, Lady Business and Flock. She was an Artist-in-Residence at SU-CASA in Manhattan and at the Sunny Point Residency in the Finger Lakes region. As a writing coach and manuscript adviser Marty helps writers dig deep to achieve their best work. A graduate of NYU’s creative writing MFA program, Marty is represented by the Frances Goldin Literary Agency.

 
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