Bookmarks

I yank sheets off the mattress with zeal, pull the cases off the pillows and toss them into a pile of nights soon to be washed out of them - soaked and sudded and rinsed out into the gutters of Court Street. The fibers will soon be cleansed of the dreams I had about you and you and you (respectively), of the nights I screamed "no" out repetitively in my sleep, of the sweat and the cells and the hair. The pile of nights sits at my door and I check my wallet for quarters.

A dollar short. Of course. I check the desk drawers and the old purses and the coat pockets and the floor under the couch. Nothing. 3 bobby pins, a few gum wrappers, and one Thai Baht. I squeeze my eyes shut and summon the dollar demons from the cracks and creases of my apartment...

Yes! I used to use dollars as bookmarks when I was filthy rich and also too busy to finish enormous volumes. Apparently I haven't finished a few others, and each "bookmark" I used shoved me back to the spot I was sitting as I shut the book so long ago:

-100 Ways to Live to Be 100: page 487: Jamba Juice receipt, Berry Lime Sublime, $4.11, 1/14/2007.

-Don Quixote: page 30: ripped corner of French 101 worksheet.

-Reading Lolita in Tehran: page 78: index card with Ani Difranco quote scrawled across the top: "Life comes easy, with your sweet company, making it so complete." (sigh...Colin...)

-Autograph Man: page 120: yellow post-it note.

-David Copperfield: page 251: train ticket, Bangkok to Nong Krai, 10/23/2007, 1,200 Baht.

-The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao: page 260: checklist from internship at Writer's House.

-Madam Bovary: page 100: a photo of my father at Christmas, sans gray hair, laughing.

-In Cold Blood: page 123: University Book Store receipt for In Cold Blood: 2/15/2006.

-Me Talk Pretty One Day: end page: small colored-pencil portrait of me, courtesy of Mai, my cutest and most proficient student in Chachoengsao.

After all this, no dollar. Just a pile of beautiful junk, next to my pile of nights.