and suddenly I see a headline / LANA TURNER HAS COLLAPSED / there is no snow in Hollywood / there is no rain in California / I have been to lots of parties / and acted perfectly disgraceful / but I never actually collapsed / oh Lana Turner we love you get up
—Frank O’Hara
***
dear floor,
when I was in middle school, my friends called me “the one that’s on the floor” because at sleepovers, they shared the bed and made me sleep on the floor (go ahead, laugh). I hated being The One That’s On The Floor, I wanted up, I wanted out. I grew out of that silly nickname, but here I am writing about you and me. I am once again the one that’s on the floor. I don’t know how it happened: your name never comes up, no one ever cared about our love. hell, I didn’t love you. you were like an awkward date to the school dance I had no choice but to say yes to. but now, you tell it to me like it is, and I tell myself it’s because you love me.
floor, I shouldn’t love you, but I think I do. as stupid as it sounds, I keep coming back to you. I keep writing shameful little poems about you. I keep them tucked away, unfinished. but when I am at my lowest, I write more shitty poems about you. I am calling to you. I find strange comfort in your cold, unforgiving being. my mattress is not enough, my body must rejoin my mind: I need to be lower. pull me down then make me still. you are unchanging, quiet, and the dingy rug, softhearted. 2 pm, I find peace with you, 2 am, I collapse with you. I see it coming, but you are a magnet. my own legs are not enough, the couch outside the party is not enough, the arms of some unlucky friend are not. enough. nothing will hold me up.
The Caring, they cry Patience; me, I should cry Mercy, but instead I cry to you. I fall to you, while Frank O’Hara mocks me somewhere in the distance — oh Lana Turner we love you get up. oh Lana Turner we love you get up. — get up. — get up I cannot get up. I try to resist you, but I find some version of you wherever I go. just last year, Cassandra read me that poem. she said this reminds me of you.
***
dear floor,
I hope you’re doing well. I know I shouldn’t be reaching out, but here we are. I miss you at 2am and I miss you at 2pm but by 5pm I realize I’m better off without you. I think. I don’t know.
how are you? scratch that — I don’t care, I mean I shouldn’t care. you knew I needed you and you made me need you again and forever and now I don’t need you anymore. right? I can’t even cry over you because who would I cry to? I don’t think I can escape you.
***
dear my darling,
I know you’ve missed me. you think you’re too good for me. I know you’ve moved on, or so you think. I never understood why you left me. did you leave me? I still stalk your Instagram and I know you stalk mine and I know you write about me. I have been loved before but they don’t like to admit it. besides you. you. god, it’s always about you. at first I thought what a relief but now I have no one. at first I thought what will she do without me? and now I wonder what I will do without you.
***
dear floor,
you’ve never called me that before. my darling. don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you. it's been a while, I know, and things are different now, but there’s still something about you and me. remember when I needed you and you needed me and somehow at the end of every night you and I were at the bar again sharing cocktails and stories then a smoke then a shot and then oh Lana Turner, we love you get up and then the rest writes itself? I couldn’t leave home without you following me (or was it me following you?). I needed you to want me, to desire me, to hold me in your arms and swallow me in my entirety. or maybe I just wanted you to pity me. if you feel me maybe you can feel for me.
now, I need you to hold my hand. no, I don’t want to go out with you this Saturday night but do you want to watch a movie at my place? do you want to count the stars? I see the big dipper and the little dipper and orion’s belt and that’s about it because I’m not so good at finding constellations but that’s besides the point: the stars and I have grown closer, but I only want them if I can have you too. do you want to wake up with me on Sunday morning? it’s in the morning light that I can see your eyes clearly. …maybe we could have a Sunday kind of love.
I’ve missed you, my love. I know I’ve woken up with someone else and someone else and someone else again but in the end you’ll see it was all for you. in the end, I will always come back to you.
