The following poem, nicole was published by B City, a poetry magazine, in the spring of 1986. I was 23 years old. It’s just a reminder of who I thought I wanted to be, and that was the Korean e.e. cummings, except my name was capped.
nicole is nevada as science is silenced
by silhouetted kissers stripping their lips.
two embodiments of anti-light become one,
and then two and then one again.
the aroma of drama
nears as shadows thin out
by a distant light.
the scent of death and sweat
sealed in an envelope is addressed
to nevada, who once was nicole.
“a frail young thang from memphis,” they all say.
one considered calling missing persons,
but couldn’t find their phone numbers,
one wrote sad love songs and tried to get
them played on the radio,
one relied on the science of luck,
and radio plays:
oh nicole, oh nicole,
you got a smile like coal,
but now you are nevada.
as two lovers part under
rising sunday morning