Talking Drunk to a Drunk Woman I Don’t Know

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The party is in another room
but the hallway is safe for silence
and you tell me there’s something in winters
that keeps them coming back again and again
and I laugh because I think you said sinners

so again I ask where you come from
and you tell me there are moons
that never see sunlight, books that never
see rain, and I try to shake my head clear

but it doesn’t help because you start again:
telling me about the windows in the attic,
the basement in your dreams, the cost
of friction when friction means dreaming.

I try to stand to go to the bathroom
but you pull me down into a puddle of bones
and finally I know your words make sense.

Photo used under CC.

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About Author

John Guzlowski’s writing appears in Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac, Rattle, Ontario Review, North American Review, Salon.Com, Atlanta Review, and many other print and online journals here and abroad.  His poems and personal essays about his parents’ experiences as slave laborers in Nazi Germany and refugees making a life for themselves in Chicago appear in his prose and poetry memoir, Echoes of Tattered Tongues (Aquila Polonica Press). Road of Bones, his novel about two German lovers separated by war, is forthcoming from Cervena Barva Press.  Of Guzlowski’s writing, Nobel Laureate Czeslaw Milosz said, “He has an astonishing ability for grasping reality.”

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