​iii. weed and wine

SUSAN
​it was given to me by a truck of a man in finland;
​a gigantic ziplock bag
​packed with the stickiest, skunkiest weed you can imagine

​i met him in a sauna
​drinking 176 proof balkan vodka

WOLF
​“susan, you drink vodka
​you be strong like me!”

SUSAN
​he liked me
​nothing happened
​but it was fun to flirt

​i think he was the last human i touched

​so there was the weed
​and then there was the wine

POOKIE
​ooo miss susan!
​i know you’ll like this!
​special bottles!
​special pook!
SUSAN
​eight magnificent giant glass jugs of red currant wine
​hiding in grandmama’s basement

​it became my nightly ritual:

​​me and my weed and my red currant winе
​​swinging on the porch swing
​​and feeling so fine

SUSAN, POOKIE & BECKETT
​staring at the shimmеring stars
​all alone

SUSAN
​and the day to night to day to night to day…

​my mind was so scattered
​i couldn’t focus on novels—
​my own or anyone else’s—
​but the fractured rhythm of poetry was a balm

​i could stare at a single page of dancing words for hours
​feeling the tips of grandmama’s fingertips on the ink
​feeling her breath in the flapping turn of a page
​feeling her whisper to me
​through cryptic underlinings:
SUSAN, POOKIE & BECKETT
​“this strange century”
​“search for the souls of stones”
​“demons are death in life”

SUSAN
​i stumble into the kitchen
​make myself a little snack
​the only grocery store around was weirdly gourmet
​i went once a week

SUSAN, POOKIE & BECKETT
​armoring myself in sunglasses, headphones, and bandit’s ​bandana
​watching the other human shapes with suspicion and ​detachment

SUSAN
​as i gathered unusual slavic delicacies
​to be consumed in an drunken daze:

SUSAN, POOKIE & BECKETT
​dill
​herring
​borscht

SUSAN
​dancing on my tongue
​i didn’t really eat meals
​just many little snacklets through the day
WOLF
​well look at that folks
​she’s eating almond butter and fig jam
​right out of the fucking jar!

SUSAN
​friends kept checking in
​but i started projecting an aura of reclusiveness:
​reach out, pull back
​reach out, pull back

SUSAN, POOKIE & BECKETT
​not responding to texts
​answering work emails in slightly too poetic ways
​arriving to zooms late
​blacking out my video five minutes in
​leaving early

WOLF
​or just not showing up at all!

SUSAN, POOKIE & BECKETT
​declining social and professional opportunities
​with a vague whisper of retreat and interiority:
​i’m in a quiet place right now

SUSAN
​julian and i had one text exchange
​right when it happened
​julian, that’s my ex
​“just checking in, are you okay?”

​he had moved to another state
​to some dull beige place
​for “work.”
​that was when the troubles began:
​he wanted to go; i wanted to stay put—

SUSAN, POOKIE & BECKETT
​“i can’t go julian, my life is here, i have work to do!”

SUSAN
​she says, before scramming to finland as soon as he left

​“yeah i’m okay, i’m okay”
​{crazy spiral eyes face emoji}

WOLF
​me and my weed and my red currant wine

WOLF & SUSAN
​swinging on the porch swing
​and feeling so fine

WOLF, SUSAN, POOKIE & BECKETT
​staring at the shimmering stars
​all alone

SUSAN
​and the thursday to the monday to the tuesday to the sunday
​watching the death toll rise…

​in my darkest moments
​i wanted the numbers to get higher
​one of the first adult books i ever read was the stand—

SUSAN, POOKIE & BECKETT
​99.4% of the population
​wiped clean
​burn it all down
​start anew

SUSAN
​refresh

​i fantasized about emerging from my house in the forest
​into an apocalyptic landscape
​fantasized about going crazy at the end of the world

​julian always said
​i had a darkness inside