Sometimes Nothing by Brenna Coffey

by Vanessa

A large dog
chasing a cat
caught my Buick instead.
Dazed, the great beast
loped away.
I slowed, but
soon lost sight of him.

My friend in Spain
writes me
about camping with Armenians
on the Sicilian coast.
Toothless and spry
they were.

I worked with this petty
woman, chatty cat-talking
claw of a girl, late
forties. Sad, really.

Do I know him? He
is waving at me.
Furrowed, I wave.
No. No it was the cute
blond dish behind me.
I scratch my ear.

My dad
I think he is secretly
the most notable man I know
but very secretly.

You must admit
that you sometimes feel
like the people passing you
are just extras
in the movie of your life.

This strange girl
she cuts herself.
But on purpose.
This little girl lurks
and is not brave at all.

Good thing I passed up
that job as “Prickly,”
the corporate mascot
for Performance Radiators.
Someone out there wears
a cactus suit now and hawks
car parts.

I was having a good day
but he
shuffles past me
in the cereal aisle
while sending himself
through a cell phone.
our spheres bump

Funny story:
my friend dared me
to go our in the middle of
the quad at lunchtime
and yell
“where is my monkey!?”
I did it
it was hysterical.

I remember your goofy
laugh and your eyelashes
all the time.
I remember how you made me
shiver and shake
less often.

My days
mingle –
not a string of beads
but a box of photos:
and shuffled.
Oh the feckless days.

Funny thing:
that girl
who once excommunicated me
from the fourth grade
wrapped her car around
a telephone pole
killing two of our friends
last year.
I feel responsible for it.

My upstairs neighbor
(the drummer, bless his heart)
wears leather
jackets and an American flag
bandanna over his
flowing blond mane.
Calls everyone babe,
and knows he is alone
in the universe.

Like I am alone
behind this curtain
hearing the audience
I slip into these dangerous
the pauses between
the pages
where thoughts cloudulate.
Sometimes nothing