Back to Issue Thirty-Seven

All the Places I Was



On an aircraft, in outer space. An incredible
view of Neptune

I was in the back room of my childhood
basement where I would do
art projects as a kid,
nature paintings and oversized papier-mâché

I was in Sienna, Italy, on the plaza,
a slice of pizza sliding out one hand
while I sipped a Heineken from the other

I was running around my college campus
at midnight in underwear
with my best friends, screaming we
can not be contained

I was in Holland, on holiday,
in Morocco, on the street,
in France, ordering a fizzy drink in dysfunctional
high school French

In my grandmother’s attic,
the one I crawled into that day,
I was too little for splinters in wood and dusty,
inner nooks, crying and then
falling asleep where no one could
find me for hours

Catch me on the beach, by the ocean, with my boogie
board, with my snorkel
and goggles and eyes, so wide, so smiling,
on my face, my happiness

I was in a bagel shop in New York City,
just a boy, I want the lox and the
shmear and the pickles and the capers
I remember saying

I was not, in my brain, in his room,
while he raped me. That’s why I don’t have any
of the details, for you, at this time.
I couldn’t find myself, after, for years,
I was in so many other worlds


Sam Herschel Wein (he/they) is a Chicago-based poet who specializes in perpetual frolicking. Their second chapbook, GESUNDHEIT!, a collaboration with Chen Chen, was part of the 2019-2020 Glass Poetry Press Series. He co-founded and edits Underblong. Recent work can be found in Moon City Review, Sundog Lit, and Bat City Review, among others.

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