Today I like the number seven
so I sent seven kisses
to a friend
and considered the meaning of life in a queue.
I did not go running.
My poetry used to be fast, not so rhythmic. And I made no excuses
for all my lunacy, and certainly no apologies
for the disjointed quality, for the highways
or tree-lined horizons.
I didn’t mind mentioning hippos in the same sentence with magic
or pillows. I liked the idea
that I had a soul and that it could leave me behind
not only when I dreamed.
If I could multiply my life by seven
it would actually be weirder
than putting turmeric and paprika in a pumpkin pie
which might not be weird at all
even though these are spices
meant for sweet potatoes and carrots.
If I subtracted seven from my life, it would be like going on a bad date
with the fifth year physics major who accosted me
in the line for dinner (called a queue?) and let me wonder
all the time what he was saying because he did not talk loudly enough
and he asked questions over and over that I couldn’t answer
with more than one or two words
because they were really more assertions with question marks
than they were questions with question marks.
If I divided by seven, then it would not be true
that Old Crow Medicine Show and Of Montreal were added
to my i-tunes library at the same time as Nirvana and Norah Jones
and that is actually true
in the same way that it is true that I used to want to live
in a secret tree house built inside a hollowed out tree trunk
and also in the same way that it is true that
I like free range eggs better
than the other kind.
If I added seven to the rest of my life, everything would turn purple
like a romantic and cliché sunset, witnessed from a rooftop
or a hill with a sundial at the top, dropped down in the middle
of a cityscape where sunsets and romance don’t belong
but are often discovered because in cities
there are bus stops and basement taverns and the place
where everyone always goes for coffee or brunch.
Today I did not go running,
and it was probably ok, because actually
I imagined a swing set and paragliding
and all the ways the number seven could change the rest of my life.