I stood in line that October, not knowing that just a year later, the woman I waited to see would take her blanket into her car and go to sleep foreve... while still parked in her garage. I only knew it was Anne, Anne Sexton, and though I didn’t know much about her at the time, just her name alone exuded a sexuality we ached for. So I followed the line of English Majors, wannabe poets and others to listen to her speak and read. In a small auditorium she read a poem to Dr. Y, talked of her books. Small talk about the new house, your car and Justin slowly run out, and the conversation becomes more personal. We talk of your decision to leave your boyfriend, and of the adventures and challenges ahead of you. We talk of the uncertainty of dating again and the effort it requires. And we talk of what it is you are looking for in a man. I am envious of the man who will find himself in your arms and enjoy the treasures of your body. I wonder what it would be like to spend the evenings making. More

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