Please Come Late by Hugo Williams

Please come late.
so that I have almost given you up
and have started glancing around the room,
thinking everyone is you.
Please don't come
until I have started missing you,
thinking I will never see you again,
praying you are lost.
Come too late for me not to notice.
Make me suffer,
wondering what you are doing
on the other side of town,
still in your dressing gown.
make me beg for mercy
when you pick up a magazine.

Are you looking in your mirror,
suddenly remembering me?
I'm on my second coffee by now,
eating the little bits of sugar in my cup.
Haven't you even set out yet?
I decide I don't want to see you after all.
I don't really like you.
I'd rather be on my own.
I know it is all over between us,
but I go on sitting here,
reading a newspaper,
not understanding a word.
If you came in now, I wouldn't recognise you.
Don't come anywhere near me
until I have gone slightly mad for love of you.

New Year's Resolution

Starting today, I am going to take care of myself.
I'm going to do all the things I've been putting off.
I'm going to do things because I want to, not because I'm forced to.
I'm going to write in my journal again.
I'm going to do laundry and clean my room and organize my desk.
I'm going to sleep.
And I'm not going to put up a happy front anymore.
Because I'm going to be happy.

The Three Oddest Words by Wislawa Szymborska

When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.

When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.

When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make it something no nonbeing can hold.

Nothing Twice by Wislawa Szymborska

Nothing can ever happen twice.
In consequence, the sorry fact is
that we arrive here improvised
and leave without the chance to practice.

Even if there is no one dumber,
if you're the planet's biggest dunce,
you can't repeat the class this summer:
this course is only offered once.

No day copies yesterday,
no two nights will teach what bliss is
in precisely the same way,
with exactly the same kisses.

One day, perhaps, some idle tongue
mentions your name by accident:
I feel as if a rose were flung
into the room, all hue and scent.

The next day, though you're here with me,
I can't help looking at the clock:
A rose? A rose? What could that be?
Is it a flower or a rock?

Why do we treat the fleeting day
with so much needles fear and sorrow?
It's in its nature not to stay:
Today is always gone tomorrow.

With smiles and kisses, we prefer
to seek accord beneath our star,
although we're different (we concur)
just as two drops of water are.

Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

I still hear her laughter

I wish I could talk to her about my college roommates. I wish I could talk to her about anything.

I'm so afraid that if I stop constantly trying to relive our memories, I'm going to forget her. It's been two months, and I feel like I've forgotten so much.

Eighteen

In three hours and forty-four minutes (that is, 3:34am), I will never again be eighteen. Pretty profound-sounding, huh?

I've said this to a few people, but it bares repeating: on one hand, it feels like I've been eighteen for a long time, but on another, I don't feel old enough to be nineteen. Does that make sense?

Since turning eighteen - oh, that disasterous, glorious day - I've been to two states and six countries (California, New Zealand, Australia, Washington, Denmark, Norway and Germany, respectively). A lot of people have died, Grandma's being the one effecting me the most, followed closely by Kelsi's.

There are a lot of things I still haven't done. I've never drunk beer (not that I want to, although it is funny how being nineteen really only marks being able to drink in Canada); I've never successfully driven a stick shift for more than, oh, thirty feet - again, not that I'm in a hurry. I've never had a boyfriend or even been kissed. I guess I should be patient on those ones, too.

This is the first year I really haven't wanted anything for my birthday. And I guess that's a good thing, because it shows how much I already have. :) I have a lot to be grateful for.

For one last time, eighteen,
Andrea