-
Tell me everything. Pour the whiskey before we sit down. Sit across the table from me, it’s the decent thing to do, I am taken. I wrote to you on a midnight when I wasn’t. I am, as ever, taken with you. I agree with the sentiment of your parenthetical statement where you hesitantly admitted……
-
The way you kiss the top of my spine when you walk byI can tell you woke up loving me today, How you always stop me from picking at my fingers and you sayYou want your Alessandra in one piece … “How do you put up with her?” “I’m sorry I don’t know the phrase…”……
-
The agreement was not to write about you on the blog.The fine print was: I could write about you elsewhere:In publicationsIn my journalsOnce, I stapled a poem about you to a telephone poleAt a train station.For all the commuters to see.For everyone with somewhere better to beTo stop and read how I felt about you….…
-
You’ve been gone a week And I am fine, But my bed misses you. It’s not me. I do not care. Not even a little. But the sidewalk keeps mentioning you in conversation and, I swear to God, Yesterday a street lamp asked me where you have been, He said, Shouldn’t he be standing underneath……
-
I hope to spend my life doing something good, something big, but in the meanwhile I am happy to entertain a side project. Maybe good starts small. It might be that my (minor) purpose in life was to hang around for a while and teach you how to love recklessly. Teach you how to make……
-
… … … … …
-
We’re back at F’s apartment. Plans were made to go out for the evening, but we got rained on during the walk back from dinner. Allegedly, he is going to change clothes, and then we will go back out into the night to pretend it isn’t almost past my bedtime. It’s going on midnight, and……
-
On Friday night I had a vivid dream that I called my mother on the phone. The sort of dream that seems so real it takes you a few hours after waking to realize it wasn’t. I have had a lot of dreams about her since she died, but never one so real and so……
-
Loving you was worth it. Even unrequited.You taught me to adore the dirt, too. To commune with the stars. There was that day by the Donau when it rainedWhen the sky was a wrung-out sponge and the whole path turned to mudYou knew I wanted you to kiss me you knew and you turned to……
-
Part One Dear O, Everything I write these days is laced with talk of god, everything is sacred, every word a prayer. I haven’t been to church in forever but I am building cathedrals on the grass most Sundays. I swim until I feel baptized and I gaze into his eyes until I feel like……
-
Follow
Following
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
Alessandra Ranelli 
Agreed – loved the NYT post. (An Austrian in NYC, who is thinking about his long-lost love, who is in Vienna)
LikeLike
Your NYT piece was wonderful. Looking forward to reading your first novel.
LikeLiked by 1 person