Cambridge was like...

apparently my latest fascination lies somewhere between collage, reflexivity and self-plagiarism. i have said these things before, but this time i am saying them with pictures, the second part of my second annual devotional to New England. and so...

Cambridge was like:

sparring with sparrows

over scones

as the girls from Radcliffe walk by

thinking about the ones that could have been the one

and meeting comrades last seen eight years ago

i
m
age
miss
in
g

day after Christmas, talking about
miscarriage and apologies, the sea
sickness of conference rooms
missing horizontal reference.

fighting robots

designing computer chips in the key of E flat,

his sister still living at home,
spaying cats eighty hours a week

between bouts of drunkenness

pink-haired sex ads

perused by lesbians on trains and midget
junkies stranded by boyfriends, asking for a dollar

the nostalgia of Harvard Square in December

the wistful wisdom of intuition, knowing
it was too soon to say, too late
to stay, the futility and
frustration watching friends fall apart

and post-parade confessions of wall-eyed strangers.