Quarter Life Crisis

She moves like you, you know When her eyes are busyShe rubs her bare feet together under the blanket  Like a cricket without its twilight song She asks questions like you, too Both big and small What’s for breakfast? and  Why do we grow? She recognizes you in the photos Old enough now to know that…

Some days The distance between here and the pen is miles wide Nautical miles, that is Not just because they’re mathematically a little bit longer But also because the floor becomes the sea And as the waves rally Pummeling lamps and bedposts and sometimes me With salt on my lips and shattered crab claws stuck…

I’m smoking a cigarette  Against the southern heat Like stepping into an oven, you said once And a pair of mating ladybugs catches my eye Floating blackest black and ticklish and slow  Reminds me it’s almost September  Reminds me you are dead

In the dentist’s chair It smells like latex and anxiety Handling her paper mask, she says That rain is the worst because it dampens her mood While the drops streak the window, falling in submission I nod in feigned agreement Are sunny days not god’s ultimate trick? Love leaves and the whole universe carries on