by Matthue Roth
I woke up 3 times tonight
with your face on my mind
like a song that set up residence
in my head.
I dreamt of you three times this week
each time I woke up on an airplane
going in different directions
each flying to a place
I say
is home.
I grew up in the Far East,
I mean, of Philadelphia
an Orient of coffeeshops and Chinese diners
and when I say I’m disoriented, I am –
I say, meet me on Market Street
and then I realize that’s an ocean away
or that the Market Street outside my window
is not the one
I grew up on
Every time you call me there’s an echo on the phone
like shouting across a canyon
I woke up on a bus today
staring up at the clouds
like I could walk on them
your face in my dreams is an echo too,
indistinct and staticky
Disorientation: the loss of the East
broadcasting your voice.
Hold that thought, Grandmom,
I’m coming home soon
all I gotta do is cross
the 3000 miles of dead air
they call the heartland
Back to the Table of Contents
