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I never went to that movie at 12:45

May. 10, 2009
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I wasn’t honest with most of my boyfriends.
I just wanted to have as much sex as possible.
I never told my mom the real reason I got my tongue pierced.
The cigarettes that weren’t mine were actually mine, every time.

I’m not really okay with being alone in any sense.
I have been afraid of the dark since I was 6 years old.
I wish girls liked me more.
There is an exact ratio of coffee, cream, and sugar in every cup I drink.
Half the books I own I have never read.

I am nervous for my blood work to come back.
The countless times I have called my gynecologist in panic.
The countless times I have had to ask for help because I don’t have insurance.
He asked me when I was getting married.
The scale must be wrong.

I got so excited about a sealing wax set and an orange serving spoon at an estate sale.
The feeling I got about buying something from an estate sale.
I love crafts made by elderly women: pressed flower cards, doilies, and knit pot-holders.
I will go deeply in debt for vintage dresses that sway lightly in my closet.
I spent $192 at the Antique Mart on Broadway today: a 1960’s Mod Print dress, a
   1950’s solid wood bedside table, a sequins party dress.

The number of times I have to inventory our relationship before you forget where I am.
I purposefully call you when you are sleeping, so “we must have just missed each other.”
How much I would rather not do this.
How much I love doing this.

Previously published in Columbia Poetry Review No. 22, Spring 2009. Dolly Lemke is a recent Milwaukee to Chicago emigrant, currently working on her MFA in Poetry at Columbia College
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