Don’t Look for Me

Don’t look for me.

Don’t look for me in Idaho.

Don’t look for me in Utah.

Don’t look for me at the candy store.

Don’t look for me at Ross for Less.

Don’t look for me in Texas.

Don’t look for me in Walmart.

Don’t look for me on a Sealy’s Posturepedic.

Don’t look for me in my Maidenform bra.

Don’t look for me in the tool corral at Home Depot.

Don’t look for me at Michael’s by the curling ribbon.

Don’t look for me at the sandbox, yelling at my kid.

Don’t look for me at Little League talking on my cellphone.

Don’t look for me in the RV camp, watching television in the woods.

Don’t look for me.

Don’t look for me in Pep Boys, buying shiny mudflaps.

Don’t look for me at Barney’s Sale, grabbing gabardine.

Don’t look for me in Vegas, wearing sequined jeans.

Don’t look for me at Scientology, taking tests for personality.

Don’t look for me at the Glendale mall eating scented pretzels.

Don’t look for me at Burning Man swilling designer H20.

Don’t look for me in Redondo Beach, bikini and beach cruiser.

Don’t look for me on Rodeo Drive wearing Gucci specs.

Don’t look for me at Jumbo’s Clown Room hitting on the strippers.

Don’t look for me.

Don’t look for me.

Don’t look for me in Indianapolis.

Kankeekee

Kalamazoo

Chincoteague

Calimesa

In Jackson, or Jacksonville.

Don’t look for me.

Don’t look for me.

Don’t look for me.

Don’t look for me in Whole Foods, with French tipped nails, sniffing the Persian melons.

Don’t look for me in hot yoga class.

Don’t look for me at the Fosters Freeze

Don’t look for me at Orange Julius.

Don’t look for me in Steak and Shake

Don’t look for me in In-N-Out.

Don’t look for me at the Circle K.

Don’t look for me.

Don’t look for me.

Don’t look for me sharing anonymity with burnt-down coffee in a chipped-rim mug.

Don’t look for me drinking bacon whiskey in a downtown trendy spot.

Don’t look for me having a high colonic, chiropractic, or sugar scrub.

Don’t look for me downing wheatgrass shots.

Don’t look for me burning a backyard porterhouse.

Don’t look for me shooting little songbirds.

Don’t look for me pawning Granny’s pearls.

Don’t look for me in auction rooms, coughing most discreetly.

Don’t look for me keeping my voice down.

Don’t look for me calling home.

Don’t look for me confessing sins.

Don’t look for me spilling my guts.

Don’t look for me telling tales out of school.

Don’t look for me wearing ribbons of incorporated causes.

Don’t look for me if you want some finger pointed somewhere

Don’t look for me.

Don’t look for me in front of Mikron Liquors with a pint of Jim Beam in a tied-off bag.

Don’t look for me yawning through my nose at a ladies’ luncheon at the Grove.

Don’t look for me having my car detailed on Van Nuys Boulevard.

Don’t look for me buying Saran Wrap, I remember who made napalm.

Don’t look for me scenting my laundry spring-fresh.

Don’t look for me stenciling holiday napkins.

Don’t look for me popping oxy and stumbling through my day.

Don’t look for me at the tanning bar, cultivating a look of health.

Don’t look for me in latex shorts and patent boots, fetish ain’t my thing.

Don’t look for me in dirty feet, carrying sky-high heels.

Don’t look for me at the rave, the fest, the after hours club.

Don’t look for me jogging round the reservoir.

Don’t look for me.

Don’t look for me there.

Look for me where waves fall down and gulls drop mussels on the rocks.

Look for me where pines grow fresh and resinous in morning sun.

Look for me where hazy light of autumn reveals pedestrians as haloed angels.

Look for me where old books whisper to one another all the secrets of the world.

Look for me dancing to Anita O’Day where no one can see.

Look for me showing a crazy old woman my handmade Russian toys.

Look for me entertaining a night nurse with comic stereoviews.

Look for me on the hidden stairs, scattered with leaves.

Look for me playing old-style pinball, plying hip English.

Look for me eavesdropping on your conversation at the bar.

Look for me writing a story about you.

Look for me with my father’s fountain pen.

Look for me at the airport, relaxing after check-in.

Look for me in the cabline, I’ve given up the bus.

Look for me in an old hotel, a walk straight uphill from town, I don’t care if there’s no wifi, TV or well-stocked minibar.

Look for me in Amsterdam, in a tiny pancake house.

Look for me in Frankfurt, eating gruene sosse.

Look for me in Paris, my scarf correctly tied, begging for help adding minutes to my French cell phone.

Look for me in St. Petersburg across the street from Brodsky’s flat, with six strangers, all weeping.

Look for me in New York, getting drunk at lunchtime under the Brooklyn Bridge.

Look for me in San Francisco, at a Beat café with a cappuccino and a box of paints.

Look for me in Ubud, my hands involuntarily imitating impossible long fingered moves.

Look at me down by the creek, I can’t get enough of that sound.

Look for me staring at the sky, admiring clouds in their latest fashions.

Look for me playing ‘spot the coyote’ in an ordinary landscape.

Look for me gazing at hawks and answering their cries.

Look for me gaping at butterflies, cabbage whites, buckeyes, and a yellow one no one can identify.

Look for me laughing at hummingbirds, greedy for their next glucose fix.

Look for me singing the coffee song.

Look for me watching the first stars come out, a symphony’s shy beginning.

Look for me in the deep basement stacks.

Look for me.

Look for me out walking when shadows lengthen and the air turns blue, with long uncombed hair

Look for me watching persimmons ripen.

Look for me not wanting to go home yet.

Look for me on the backroads.

At Creams N Dreams.

At Lou La Bontes.

In the bed of General Grant.

Look for me in a forest of streetlamps.

Look for me falling in love with you.

Look for me.

Look for me.

I’ll be there.

12 Responses to “Don’t Look for Me”

  1. beverlytrainer@aol.com Says:

    Beautiful! Makes me want to recall my own memories of LA, El Segundo, places that are long-gone but still a part of my life.

    Beverlytrainer@aol.com

  2. Carole taub Says:

    Wow!! What a surprise…what a treat. Terrific 😉

  3. Jodi Lampert Says:

    LURVE….

  4. jamieschaffner Says:

    Lists! So powerful. ‘Don’t look for me wearing ribbons of incorporated causes.’

  5. Beautiful. Find me reading a piece by Janet Fitch.

  6. colonelstevenson Says:

    Reblogged this on theamazingcolonelstevenson.

  7. Weeping. w/joy and not w/joy.

  8. Look for me reading Janet Fitch.

  9. justin rasegan Says:

    I really hope you will be remembered… Your vision is essential to our time. I cant be remembered because some honkeys put barbed wire on the bottom of the sacred waterfall that was our rite of passage into manhood. Now i got sharp teeth and im half crazy ill never make it.

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