Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Tuesday, September 30, 2008: On the Street....Hard Angles-Soft Edges, Paris

When lost in thought, the body goes into autopilot,
capable of walking to a destination
or obeying green and red traffic lights.

Once, I drove for thirty minutes across town
before realizing my mistake—east, not west.
A psych professor told me that the eyes of someone

in deep thought can mimic REM: eyelids
twitching, blinking hurriedly, till the thinker
resurfaces, a diver coming up for air.


  1. You are going to grow tired of me telling you how much I love your poems. Are you going to enroll an MFA? You need not. You are amazing.

  2. I love the process - great poem, I'm with la belette rouge.

  3. I have been the autopilot girl many times.


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