How do you make an omelet, and why do you think my forehead
looks like this, and do you really never think about ghosts?
I need to buy some rugs to remember I live a new life now and to
shield my downstairs neighbors from my clomping. I’ve finished a
draft of our song, and it was so hard. I filmed my knee and sang
very quietly into my phone in order to remember the new melody
that came to me while thinking of words that rhyme with light. It is
clear to me that I do not want to work tomorrow. My best friend tries
to beat herself at crosswords, one empty middle seat away, separated
by a sea of snacks that we’ve shared with our flight attendant. My hands
have turned into my mothers.
This is the big bright B on the hill above Bisbee. This is a cool breeze
cutting the boisterously hot sun into the perfect version of 7pm. This is
you, with your hair and your eyes and your little smile, telling me
I’m all yours. I’m not going anywhere.