The sleeping one is erect and mumbles. The room went Arctic overnight and his foot peeks outside the covers. You leave his warm slumber five minutes before the new hour, stomach growling, and possible moon somewhere. There's slight moisture still. He'll later say he saw you leave. The day will happen soon enough— peanut butter sandwich, dropped knife, tote bag of graded papers. Flossing in a colder room, planning Jefferson myth-debunking, washing hair—the man's sleep stretches without boundaries, rolled to middle, as if it were his bed, thick lashes, even beard, and no concern for pillow. He doesn't know it's October and you are happy.
Blue Is Beautiful Amy but the Story Is So the '90s
I wanted to be the one who thought of truck bed walls.
You locked yourself in the bathroom
so I couldn’t brush my teeth before bed.
Where is this going and will it be successful? I hate bullies.
She’s been everywhere she even heard
the shot that killed John Lennon.
From now on I’m sticking up
for myself. My notes and to-do’s have flowers.
I don’t want to die. I feel scared all the time.
What you looked like as a child is clear.
The way you run from the hot tub
and throw yourself in the pool.
When they were joining the EU.
I worry about mine.
Have you ever seen your own cervix?
You’re like a natural matzoh ball maker.
Why did I ever want to be in the couple
with the white walls three shoes and lots of art.
Scarves from museum shops.
I sat your kid on my counter
and we spilled food everywhere.
The nickname grandchildren give is the one you die with.
Everyone wanted to see a movie where the woman turns to stone.
They say Maria Falconetti never acted again.
The gym was impossible after I fell on my knee.
I walked up to you and cried.
Why do you treat your son better than your daughter.
Talk about something else like did anyone ever call you bro.