Pussy Willow (An Apology)

By Susan Mitchell

Why delay? Today I stopped
to rub the fur, like the tender
ear of a cat, stopped

to stroke the lush gray
plush (and oh, the pink!) as if
the cat had rasped

itself to frenzy, to an
ecstasy of itch
all raw

this steak tartar, this
chafe of meat, and
because of this

I was late (the willows in
their bins outside
the florist almost as tall as I)

and once again, have traded
friendship for
dillydally.

I had to take off
my gloves, and I would have
taken off my skin

(for why should I put
a barrier between
myself and anything?)

to pluck, to blow back
each separate tuft
of foam (in down, sink down)

because I cannot keep my hands
off the world and the world
out of my breath. What

does the world want (anyway)
of me with its pussy willows, with
its tears and angers

its greeds and splendors, its
petitions of
skyscrapers and waterfalls?

And what do I want with
its famous and forgotten? And is
this the purpose of my life,

to figure this out? Or is it
to touch and be touched? And if
I love the world more than

any one person, or if I love
one person more
than the world, what

does this say of me?
And what do I say to friends
when they keep me waiting,

Oh dally, friend, delight
so that I may rub
it from your body

its furs and gewgaws, its
horrors and sweetnesses, so you may
deliver it to me, you

the messenger, the unwinged
the prosaic in all
its scratch and bliss?

* * * * *

A poem for friends who patiently wait, as well as those who keep me waiting. I told Egay once that I wanted to write a good poem about friendship. Tama na muna yang love, yang heartbreak. True friendship, that lets two people breathe, is more difficult for me to write about. Next project!

* * * * *

Despite the rains and suspension of classes yesterday, I decided to go out. Passed the bridge and saw the Marikina river in all its muddy, overflowing glory. And saw the riverpark and urinals and benches (where Mitzie, Mikael, EJ and I had greeted 2004 like vodka-saturated sponges) were all underwater.

"And you find this exciting?" Mitzie texted back. Haha. Yep, almost as exciting as the two words that greeted me when I got to SM: Underwear Sale! Instead of giving in to temptation, though, I accompanied EJ on his shoe-shopping spree (he ended up buying good shirts instead), watched The Stepford Wives (which failed to be truly entertaining, or sinister), and devoured half of a Yellow Cab pepperoni and mushroom pizza. With extra pepperoni. Mmmm.

* * * * *

This past week has been a good flurry of moments with friends. I remember the forever-late and now-free Pastrana animatedly narrating the ending of Frankie and Johnny, complete with Michelle Pfeiffer's pout and shrug. Egay, with whom I shared 3 rounds of Mongolian food and 5 hours of reading/checking at Sweet Inspi. Mikael and Lij, who somehow shuttled us to Paranaque despite our wayward sense of direction. Gelo and Cholo telling hilarious Boy Bastos stories, which disguised the smell of White Flower and the retching in the other room. Jeline, who made code-switching sound poetic over cheesecake and yema. Vince, Elmo, and Allan, who are fast becoming my best Cantina salsa buddies. Mykel, who made Sunday night much more bearable. The one who still has the power to hurt, but only because of his tough honesty and faith. And even the one who will not answer text messages, because "one for the road" means "we're better off as inactive spectral presences in each other's lives."