Anything but Dreams

  On the long drive back home

  Today was their day

  I had a day once

  Perfect in every way

  Every minute detail

  Burned forever in my mind

  From the radiant smile

  That shone from her face

  As she began the walk

  Down the aisle

  To the way the setting sun

  Reflected in the champagne glasses

  To the evening that followed

  But what I remember most

  Was the constant

  Beautiful smell

  That became associated

  With all my hopes and dreams

  Becoming reality

  The smell of the

  Gardenia

  Pinned to my tuxedo

  I wore on that perfect day

  The wonderful smell

  That makes me want to cry

  I had a day once

  And before I knew it

  It was night

  Then it was over

  Now it’s just

  A sad day

  Just like all the others since

  And all the others to come

 

  April 13, 2003

  Manchester, NH

  This entire poem came about from listening to the song “Comptine d’un Autre Ete, L’Apres Midi” from the Amelie soundtrack. It’s just a two-minute instrumental on the piano, but the first time listening to it today just brought about a flood of emotions…it is so amazing how a simple song can inspire someone in such a way. Earlier tonight, while driving from Boston to Manchester, I got thinking about a friend of mine who has a wedding coming up soon. I realized that I would have no one to go to with it, and how alone would it make me feel if I went to a wedding by myself. That hit me as one of the saddest things I could think of. What really hit me while writing this poem was what if this person getting married was your last good friend you had around? From there it quickly evolved into more of a personal reflection on how I’d feel being at such an event and thinking about how I was there once (on the marrying end, not the guest end). Not the nicest thing to think about, in fact it brought up a lot of pain writing this. It’s not the best thing to shy away from such thoughts and pretend that pain doesn’t exist, so long as you don’t live to relive the pain.

  Cars Blur By

  Thinking too much

  About wanting to not

  Be the one who’s alone

  Hate being the odd one out

  Everyone’s favorite third wheel

  Wishing I could be the one to steal

  Someone’s heart for once

  Be the one who inspires

  Wanting and passion and

  Longing for no good reason

  Other than the fact that they

  Want and care about me

  Been walking down that road

  Over in the breakdown lane

  For over a year now

  Thumb extended

  Cars blur by

  No one stopping

  No second-glancing

  My arm’s getting tired

  For all this thumbing

  To try and get a ride

  For a few miles

  For a few states or

  For a lifetime

  I’ve walked backward

  I’ve given up so many times

  I’ve walked forward

  I’ve written to pass the time

  But I’ve found that

  Hundreds of poems aren’t

  Very good company

  Or keep you warm at night

  Sun up, sun down

  It’s been the same thing

  The constant sound

  Of speeding traffic

  Has been the soundtrack

  Of my recent life

  What I wouldn’t give

  To get some amazing music

  Back in my life

  December 18, 2003

  Manchester, NH

  Off

  Lunch Lady on the Prowl

  Today was mac and cheese

  Tomorrow is Salisbury steak

  On the menu back home

  Hanging on the fridge

  In the darkened kitchen

  In the darkened apartment

  The one with the cats

  No one home ‘cause she’s a

  Lunch lady on the prowl

  No more hairnets

  No more students

  No more plastic gloves

  No more inhibitions

  The night the music

  Her dissolving social mores

  All belong to her now

  Cuttin’ loose on the dance floor

  Lookin’ for a partner for tonight

  Dancin’ like Salisbury steak day

  Will never come ever again

  Dancin’ like tomorrow

  Will never come ever again

  May 13, 2004

  Manchester, NH

  Last night I went to a bar to see a local cover band. They were really good, but due to the music they played (60’s and 70’s funk, soul, and rock), it was a much older crowd. There was a table of women sitting next to me who would get up and dance for certain songs. The really funny was that they all looked like they could be lunch ladies, which inspired this poem.

  Picnic for One

  Picnics are no fun

  When they’re just for one

  Something doesn’t feel right

  Sitting on the blanket

  Looking at the basket

  When you’re all alone

  I bet it looks strange as well

  Oh well sucks to be them

  Because they can’t join me

  Because I’m happy here

  And if I’m not then I’m

  Going to fool myself

  Until I think I am

  And I’m going to have

  A great time here today

  At my picnic for one

  No matter what anyone

  Tries to tell me

  No matter what anyone

  Tries to say

  October 14, 2003

  Manchester, NH

  The first two lines were in Line Ideas for a while. A kind of fun one in a weird way.

  Light Abrasion

  Light abrasion

  Slight skipping

  Or maybe Sarah

  Is hiccupping

  Making the fumbling

  Towards ecstasy

  A lot more awkward

  Most likely the former

  Is what’s going on

  I think that the latter

  Would be harder to explain

  October 19, 2003

  Manchester, NH

  My copy of Sarah McLachlan’s Fumbling Towards Ecstasy has a scratch on it. Often on nights when I don’t have to get up early the next morning, I sleep with this CD playing on repeat.

  Fiona

  Maybe it’s the season

  Filled with the leaves

  And apples falling

  All around me now

  But the sound of Fiona

  Is captivating and

  Drawing me in

  For repeated listens

  I’m entranced by

  The haunting voice

  The sullen music

  The entirety of it all

  I take in the season of

  The sooner twilight

  The brisker weather

  The heavier jackets

  The warmer interiors

  And enjoy Baileys

  On ice while I’m

  Sitting in slippers

  Thinking those

  Interesting thoughts

  And appreciating

  This time of year

  I associate with her

  October 22, 2003

  Manchester, NH

  Back when I lived in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, I used to have a five disc CD changer. During the fall and winter months,
I would almost always have both of the Fiona Apple CDs in there. That’s probably where my association with her music and the cooler months began. It seems so fitting though. When I hear her music, I think of sitting in a room where the only light comes from the flickering firelight of the fireplace in front of me while I sit in a comfortable chair while holding a warming beverage. I’ve never actually lived this scenario, but this is what her music makes me think of. It is so wonderfully amazing when music can completely take you away to another place and setting.

  Epiphanal Pockets

  Finding inspiration

  In the little things

  That are often overlooked

  That are always ignored

  By the busy sheeple

  Intently obeying

  Their self-imposed schedules

  Oblivious to the countless

  Epiphanal pockets

  That are lightly sprinkled

  Amidst the scenery

  Of our lives

  Like knives

  They glimmer in the sun

  Or poke me when I’m numb

  And don't see them hidden

  Like the beacons they are

  Giving the inspiration

  I need to create

  I need to carve out

  To insert the obvious into

  My tiny little niche in the

  Consciousness of society

  March 19, 2004

  Manchester, NH

  I was emailing a friend who wanted to know where I get my ideas from and I just started writing this.

  Wide Mahogany Frame

  Wide mahogany frame

  Hung above a matching desk

  And other tasteful furnishings

  In a hotel room that seems

  Much too nice to be flying

  The weathered Holiday Inn flag

  Tiredly tattering out front

  I set my bookmark in place

  And really look at the three

  Pictures like square islands

  In a navy blue mat-like lake

  Fenced in by the frame

  This was the moment

  An idea chose to strike

  Inspiration for something cool

  It was something I had to do

  Hugely inspired

  My brain on fire

  So much thanks

  To an unnaturally nice

  Piece of hotel art

  May 5, 2004

  Providence, RI

  I had to attend a regional general manager meeting out of state, so I stayed over the night before at a Holiday Inn. It looked crappy on the outside, so I expected the worst. The lobby area ended up being nice, but the room’s décor was what really impressed me. After seeing this framed picture(s), it gave me a great idea for a gift for someone I know.

  Rumpus on the Floor

  Rumpus on the floor

  Darks and whites

  Clean and dirty

  Grays and colors

  Intermingled

  Tied and twisted

  In an orgy

  Of fabrics

  Poly with cotton

  Blends on Rayon

  No gentle cycle here

  Snuggle Bear had better

  Stay away from the fray

  This really isn’t for him

  Not really for me either

  So I’m going to leave

  Them up to their own

  Non-delicate deviousness

  And let them do it alone

  October 26, 2003

  Manchester, NH

  While getting ready for bed last night, I took a long look at the giant heap of clothes on the floor and had written the following on a piece of paper…

  “Clean and dirty

  In an orgy

  Of fabrics

  Poly on cotton

  ? with rayon”

  When I got up this morning I gave it personality.

  Peripheral Element

  Plants provide such a

  Peripheral element

  To the settings

  To the surroundings

  Always on the edge

  Always out of sight

  Always hiding there

  Here in plain sight

  Yet they fill the role

  Bringing a lushness

  Bringing a fullness

  To the room they’re

  Sitting in hiding in

  Only directly being

  Seen or noticed when

  I forget to water them

  September 2, 2003

  Manchester, NH

  A month ago I bought a plant. It was a leafy green plant from the supermarket down the street that I got for only $5. Later, I realized that when I’m busy looking at something else in my room, I always see the plant out of the corner of my eye. While I might not realize it, it really adds fullness and a living aspect to the room.

  Successful Regifting

  I've seen the disappointment

  Of a good friend receiving

  Something poorly chosen

  A perplexed look frozen

  I know what you’re thinking

  That the giver just bought

  A present with no thought

  And now you’re thanking

  Them for such a nice gift

  Not wanting to cause a rift

  Two days later I’m watching

  The offending gift rewrapped

  Later it’s again unwrapped

  By someone who is unknowing

  But this time it’s a perfect fit

  The new owner really loves it

  Hooray for successful regifting

  Since I've seen the life cycle

  And watched it come full circle

  From a forced careless receiving

  To your more thoughtful re-giving

  Finding the right person for the gift

  In hand, turns out to be a gift in itself

  January 7, 2004

  Manchester, NH

  I watched this in action a few weeks ago.

  Shy Day

  Once every four years

  The terribly shy day

  Builds up the courage

  To come out and play

  After much thinking

  I finally figured out why

  The shy day is that way

  Because it’s being stalked

  It seems whenever it arrives

  All quiet and unassuming

  On February twenty-ninth

  It’s always being followed

  A few months down the road

  By the annoyingly brash, garish,

  And hopelessly dishonest

  Election Day

  So I no longer lay blame

  On the shy day

  For wanting to be that way

  I think I’d do the same

  If I was being stalked

  By the three-ring circus

  That tries to pass

  For a notable day

  February 29, 2004

  Manchester, NH

  Hooray for leap-year!

  Rumble Strip

  In the car late at night

  Driving the Mass Pike

  Sorta necessary in a way

  For some to keep awake

  To keep them from drifting

  To keep them from crashing

  I personally think it’s a lot of fun

  To move to the side and drive over

  I like to hear it “RRRRRRRRRRR,”

  Feeling proud

  Letting it rip

  Playing it loud

  Rumble strip

  October 23, 2003

  Manchester, NH

  RRRRRRRR!

  Glimmers like Gold

  Glimmers like gold

  In the blackness of night

  A jagged criss-cross unfolds

  Growing around the edge

  Of an unseen sea

  Dark as the night sky

  Up in which is me
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  Looking down below

  On the great city

  Passing by so slowly

  Not stopping there

  But heading way beyond

  To great friends far away

  But I look until the gold

  Slips by under the wing

  I'll have to visit someday

  Smile and return to my book

  December 25, 2003

  Above Chicago

  Seeing Chicago from a plane on Christmas night was truly a beautiful sight.

  Five Hours in Seattle

  Freshly landed

  Still on the runway

  Looking at tracks

  Cut through new snow

  Five hour layover

  Sitting on my mind

  Few ideas

  Fewer plans

  Will I buy a book

  And spend the time

  Reading away the hours

  Or will I hit the subway

  And make my way

  Downtown to dinner

  And the Space Needle

  The seatbelt lights go off

  I gather myself and my things

  Out onto the cold curb

  Snow falling down

  I’m suddenly torn

  Stay here

  Eat dinner

  Read a book

  Listen to music

  That would be easy

  That would be comfy

  Then I realized the day

  First of the year

  Is this the precedent

  I want to set for myself

  I’m in a city and state

  I’ve never been to

  And I was thinking

  And about to choose

  To take the cowardly route

  I mustered up my

  Post divorce motto

  Said “Ah, fuck it,”

  Jumped on a bus

  And exploring I went

  January 1, 2004

  Seattle, WA

  Tried and Sampled

  Relying on memories

  Really isn't for me

  Since they hold nothing

  And always try thwarting

  All my best intentions

  So instead I believe in

  Living life like a buffet

  Sampling something

  Different every day

  Returning nothing

  Untouched or

  Unsampled for

  We all pay the same

  Price in the end and

  When the day is done

  Would I rather reminisce

  On what I saw was available

  Or what I tried and sampled

  Since vicarious existence

  Is no match for

  Real living experience

  January 31, 2004

  Andover, MA

  I was up until about 2am in the early morning of January 31 reading You Shall Know Our Velocity! by Dave Eggers. After I had stopped reading for the night and turned over to go to sleep, this was clamoring to be written, so I grabbed my Palm and tried to keep up.

  About the author

  Eric Nixon is the author of a collection of poetry, Anything but Dreams, and three short stories, Retribution on a Jetpack, Incident on the Hennepin, and Plenty of Time. He is currently finishing his full-length science fiction novel, 2492.

  Eric lives in Massachusetts with his wife, Kari Chapin, author of the bestselling book, The Handmade Marketplace: How To Sell Your Crafts Locally, Globally, and Online.