poem by kelli russell agodon

Goodbye Stranger

When I said there must be another way,
she said sunrise is sunrise is sunrise.

She said wait. She said stop.

When I said I’ve never understood the truth,
she said listen to Starshine, Supertramp.

She said there are a million of us who fear
being average, all singing in the shower,
all making acceptance speeches with a hairbrush.

What she didn’t say was never.
What she didn’t say was melody.

Thankful curbstone. Russian thistle
growing through the fence.

There must be another way
to say sunrise never equals itself,
and truth depends on a moment.

I have waited for people
who never came back, old boyfriends
who promised to return.

I have stopped believing in doorbells,
in the scent of homecoming.

I stopped believing there must be another way,
that technology = better.

Each morning she read me my horoscope.

What mine didn’t say:
There’s a Grammy with your name on it.
There’s a curbstone that trusts your butt.

And the faces that never returned?
They’re quiet, but think of us often.

-Kelli Russell Agodon