Lately I've been thinking about this prose poem by Sarah Manguso (my most read blog post ever is a link to a Sarah Manguso prose poem and this is appropriate) called The First Time and written under the title I wrote, "I wish this were my life right now." At the time I didn't feel lonely, but maybe I did as it was the winter and I was at Knox trying to write poetry and speak German and figure out Dylan Thomas. This poem made me feel lonely though and now I feel as if it is an appropriate descriptor of things. I will put the prose poem here, though I am always sort of uncomfortable doing that, similar to stealing music from the internet.

The First Time

The first time I saw sunlight strike the each in columns I was amazed it had been possible all along. I wrote down the date and time as proof so it would stay true. And I thought I couldn't peel away after the kiss and ever be the same, but as it turned out there was no sudden rescrambling on the molecular level. O let me not be changed! I would exclaim. There are many ways of knowing, as anyone who has studied epistemology call tell you. Watching a beautiful back is enough to do it. M. says he's call at ten and calls five minutes before. Love? All that remains is to write the beautiful fiction.