and there was no more.

 

the beautiful francesca lia block and i.

saturday, june 11th, 2011 at cambridge public library, cambridge, ma.

Remember?

These are some of the lines I liked best from a writing exercise we did in our Writing Group last year.



I remember drinking chicken soup in my grandmother's kitchen  while they took him out the back door.

I remember the way you said my name the first time we met.

I remember my first drink and 7 years later I remember nothing.

I remember watching the fireworks explode over the pond while she cried at home.

I remember finding my drugstore reading glasses under her bed and sneaking out.

I remember dancing with her by the bathroom of the nightclub.  She doesn't remember, though.

I remember asking him to 'repeat that in spanish'.  I wish it sounded as beautiful when I said it back.

I remember waking up that morning and not remembering.

I remember the way the bear-skin rug felt under my feet and being too ashamed to admit wanting to sleep on it.

I remember sneaking to the bathroom after church on ash-wednesday and scrubbing my forehead.

I remember bleeding.

I remember giving birth to triplet girls in a dream.  They were his.

I remember meeting a boy named Ian at a hotel in Providence.  He told me I saved his life.