I have been finding notes from you
Tonight a postcard in a book of poems,
Norman Rockwell painted Huckleberry Finn,
January '84: "Our phone is being installed
on the 11th" "Hello to the Boys"
The other day in the Shakespeare
a coffee-stained legal sheet---
Bob Melvin finally hit a home run
as all day of a Sunday with Chet
you were waiting for me
And in a box for special things
a Social Security card I was after
and the red card poem, 8-13-88, Carroll County
Surprise: not the us they recall
that is other, but the places,
pictures of the gone or not yet world
You'd think I'd planned it,
like scraps hidden in Laura's room,
perfect plants for moments like these
poignant comings-across in a future
with or without you still around
---or, as it turns out, both
Yeah, this entry is about finding an old piece of paper with a poem on it that's about finding old pieces of paper (one of which has a poem on it). And that ain't the only way it's regressive.
P.S. I just saw a clip from the upcoming Gwynneth Paltrow movie in which her character quibbles with the notion of "healthy" hair (at which I've bristled for many moons) and then chides the woman she's talking to (as I might well feel the urge to do in the same circumstances) for contrasting "organic" with "chemical". The only other thing I know about the film is that it's called Proof, but that's enough to suggest it could be a little close for comfort. And thus potentially utterly compelling.
I always think that Hal Hartley film Trust was called Proof, even though I've memorized that it wasn't.
"Proof" is quite a word. And it's in the pudding, too.
Pudding. Mmmmm. How long since you've had pudding?
How long since you've had pudding?