my sister
calls me
to show me
a hole in her foot,
and she’s like:
what do you think this is,
as I nurse my cavernous life,
the one I want to begin with you.
why are you smoking that thing?
(she disapproves of my new habit.)
My addictions aren’t that bad,
I just listen to music for every mood
I’ve never been able to explain.
Today I sunk into strong black females
because they’re the only ones who
seem to know how to heal the world.
I cleaned my whole apartment to them,
I jumped around to women on the loose
with a rope so big it scraped the ceiling.
I bought a bike to ride the chorus line
away from everything I’ve known.
During the work day, it’s wordless,
bottomless, foreboding piano,
and when I’m missing you,
it’s the sound of whatever
is currently killing me.

Sitting in my car

I do this thing where I sit in my car in the winter. Sometimes I read the last bit of something. Sometimes I let the lastest song on repeat fill me. Sometimes I do nothing except let the day’s unresolved extraness leak from my skin and settle into my seat.

I wait until all the heat leaves my car, until my toes are numb from the cold. When I can’t take it anymore I go inside to my warm home that I am lucky to have, even if its ceilings are stained in the blood of dead flies, and it’s on the third floor.

I don’t really know when I started doing this. But I killed my battery doing it the other day. I left my lights on. Sean helped me jumpstart my car.

I’m sitting in my car right now. I can see Sean in the window. It took me a while to figure out what he was doing. My eyes aren’t the best in the dark, but I think I figured it out. He’s holding two ends of a Christmas tree in his hands.

He probably wants to surprise me. I’m surprised alright. Why does he continue to choose me? That’s a legitimate question. Not for him, but for me. It’s my song on repeat.

I snap pictures of him with my eyes. I add more to his living eulogy I’ve been writing inside my head for over a third of my life and go inside.

Inside, Sean smiles and strings lights.