poetry stoned still treading water

friday i busted ass out of work at 5 oclock which is really about three hours too early for the amount of work i had left on my plate-which im now feeling completely overwhlemed by and ignoring quite effectively- but it was well worth it as it allowed me to arrive in concord NH two hours later, just in time to hear sharon olds and philip shultz and wes mcnair read their glorious poetry. i sometimes wonder where my salary is going, after all im not spending money on clothes (im going naked this spring unless i invest a little in some new work clothes) or shnazy computer gadgets (my computer currently holds 0 charge, it has to be plugged in or else it instantly dies. i.e. its a desktop laptop) or even expensive music tickets (ive only been going to local venues and small deals)so where the hell does it go? and then i realize that for this ten dollar ticket i didnt think twice about spending the money to park in the city all day to save time getting there, burnt through a tank and a half of gas by going about 90 mph when i finally extracted myself from the boston mass-exodus traffic, bought a copy of each of the poets newest books because i want my life be full of their kind of brilliance and also they were all there to sign the damn things so really, how could i resist??
lets just say the event cost me more than ten dollars in the end. but again, so worth it. especially since i met D, father of M, in concord, who happened to be friends with sharon olds partner and that happened to mean i happened to be able to speak to her for longer than the average book signing would allow though im pretty sure i barely muttered ten poetry-stoned words and three of them were "i'm in pr" which really is the least attractive thing i can say about myself at this point. D did step in quickly to talk about my plays, which is very kind of him. he is a loyal fan of mine even if i dont deserve it these days since i can barely remember what dialogue looks like, nevermind how its written.
in fact seeing D was possibly as poetic as the reading. he took me out to dinner at a thai place around the corner after the reading and i got something called 'golden bags' that were really delicious and crunchy and not baggy at all. and then we talked about my career his career poetry playwriting politics nature travel healthcare technology religion and pretty much everything we could discuss except M. i appreciated that although M was present in his dads engulging hugs pensive pauses goofy gestures skeptical head tilts and twinkling impish eyes. the resemblance between them is intense, it goes beyond physicality, it was disorienting as hell. the only reason i was able to wait until i got back to the car to burst into tears is that D was sensitive enough to know that the space between me being pulled together and me being a complete wreak was the time it took to say his sons name outloud.
i have done a damn good job of pretending i do not miss him as much as i do. i have kept myself distracted in every way thinkable. through work, music, art, volunteering and most of all, other love interests. it hasnt been for him, its been for me and its been wonderful. i love my life in a totally new way. it feels exclusively mine, unlike college where it belonged first to my parents and second to my school and maybe third to me. in a way its all worked. i have been too busy and happy to spend more than a passing moment worrying where he is and whether i will talk to him some time soon. and by getting involved with other people, particularly other women- who have kept things especially interesting- ive managed to eliminate loneliness and the need for validation that i will fully admit exist in me and are the weaknesses i assumed would keep me clinging to M.
but even after surrounding myself with what felt like an impermeable wall of people and purpose and time, i go to his hometown and see him in his father and feel as skinless as i did six months ago.
i think its safe to say that he wont read this. hes somewhere deep in mexico on a truck or a bike or whatever vehicle is carrying him towards the rest of his life. i just hope im right that slow as its going i'm actually moving towards my own destination too, not splitting the difference between his path and mine and ending up in the middle of nowhere.