Audrey Gidman

Audrey Gidman


notes on a traveler


he wonders aloud to himself where did the road end

for the one who kept walking? he is standing in the kitchen

hair unkempt and curling like hot wires. He wrings his hands

until his eyes are crushtightsmile and unanswered     sometimes

he paces, muttering about voices

echoing in the large stone room of his mind     he mentions

the screaming but he is thick-knuckled so he tells

of the backpack days instead

of Alaska Indiana California Maine

of waking up drugged hungry anonymous

but he refuses to forget humor, winks a dark eye while he thinks

but forgets where he is     sometimes

he dismantles the word trust. Gets lost when he knows where he is.

No bicycle now no rotting socks. A closet full of his own clothes

he doesn't know what to do with     he tells me

when he talks to me he can't decide if I'm trying to kill him or not.

Says he is stretching across oceans.

they really fucked with me face cracking

he laughs, his eyes are shaped like porcelain

when he talks about himself he gets chipped.

He carries a room made of himself

and he is afraid      of losing it

can't decide if he believes in location he is afraid

he will look down one day and not    see a body