I stumbled out of the bushes

to see a deer drink from a pool.

I climbed into the hills above

Berkeley, one step at a time.

I went to Prince Edward Island

where Anne of Green Gables’ face

is on the license plate. A hawk

or a condor flew over our house.

I bought a carton of smokes

at the duty free shop in Anchorage.

Took a seconal in Frankfurt

and woke up in New York.

I bothered my friends with my troubles;

I was never (not) alone. I postponed

pleasure until it was almost gone.

I stared out over the North Sea,

waiting for rain. I wandered

through the red light district in Amsterdam

in the middle of night. I rode on

the back of a motorcycle over a mountain

on Christmas Eve.

I floated on my back in the ocean

at Maui. Stared out the window of

my hotel room over the rooftops of

Florence. Took LSD in Paris and sat

on a bench in the Luxembourg Gardens.

Rented a hotel room in Liverpool

but couldn’t sleep.

I missed my flight from Madrid to Lisbon.

Found an apartment on the Panhandle

and drank tea in Golden Gate Park.

I was caught stealing at Safeway—I could never

return. A Chinese acupuncturist came to

my house when I threw out my back

and couldn’t move. I woke up in an apartment

on 5th Street and listened to the roosters

crow on someone’s roof. I visited her

in her house overlooking the ocean and she

let me in. I put out my hand to touch you,

but the bed was empty.

I wheeled a stroller down an icy New

England street. Waited under a canopy

in the rain, but she never came. I stood

in front of a classroom with paint stains

on my shoes. Called the suicide hotline,

but no one answered.

I dropped everything I was doing

and ran into the street. Drove

a car with faulty transmission until

a fire started under the hood. I ate

Indian food on a balcony in Capetown.

I sang karaoke in a bar in Tibet.

Something I meant to say comes back

to haunt me in my sleep. I turn

the key in the lock and call your

name. Her face appears, out of nowhere,

making a shadow on the page. There’s

only one stone and it weighs a ton.

from Alien Abduction (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2015). Copyright © 2015 Lewis Warsh. Used with the permission of the publisher.