One day
I passed a place
That had disappeared
—Kim Hyun
It was the East Coast. This was in my head.
Was I ever there? Did it ever exist? I’d love
to pass you by, 253 Lamartine Street, to pull
into the driveway, say hello, walk up the several
flights to the attic room I lived in for several months
during the winter and spring of 1998 (old note to self:
do not put the actual dates, give the reader whiplash
with the slammed juxtaposition of non-dates, the elision
of different actual events, mixed in with unreal ones, or
amalgamations of them, or events believed to have existed
but perhaps never occurred. This gives the reader a sense
of ________. This gives the author, the person who experienced
these events and non-events __________ [and also some whiplash]).
I would love chug up to the top of your hill, Tower Street, Jamaica Plain,
a few typical Boston three-floored buildings down from the cemetery
gate, find my way in, slowly walk up the three flights, caressing the
banister for any memorial sensations, to where I slept, my bedroom,
separated by a hallway from my living room (my roommate had the
rest of the place, but we did share the kitchen and bathroom – I remember
chasing out the raccoons from the kitchen sink in the middle of winter in
the dead of night, more than once). Are you there? Were you there?
I would very much enjoy solidifying what seem my vaguest memories
of personal place in the area, 253 Amory Street, walk through the door
to determine that yes, this existed for me; touch the walls, allow them to
pull from my senses actual memories that may or may not have happened
there. I see the geometry of each location, the layout, but very generally,
almost as if an architectural apparition. Christmas in 1999, snow most
likely on the ground outside (Were we on the first floor like when I first
moved from there directly to the West Coast? Like in the building I now
write this? Never the threat of any ice on the ground in this fair city....)....
separated by a hallway from my living room (my roommate had the
rest of the place, but we did share the kitchen and bathroom – I remember
chasing out the raccoons from the kitchen sink in the middle of winter in
the dead of night, more than once). Are you there? Were you there?
I would very much enjoy solidifying what seem my vaguest memories
of personal place in the area, 253 Amory Street, walk through the door
to determine that yes, this existed for me; touch the walls, allow them to
pull from my senses actual memories that may or may not have happened
there. I see the geometry of each location, the layout, but very generally,
almost as if an architectural apparition. Christmas in 1999, snow most
likely on the ground outside (Were we on the first floor like when I first
moved from there directly to the West Coast? Like in the building I now
write this? Never the threat of any ice on the ground in this fair city....)....
