And the best I could do
Was do as I had done the day before
So I continued to go, I continued to move,
But I forgot to breathe.
And when I looked up, I saw the white of your eyes shimmer from the flames and the terror that accompanied.
What do I say when she tells me she’s scared, what can I even say?
That nothing matters?

Who in the hell set it up like this?
And why in the **** do we have to listen?
My sister said no but holds the hand of her female flesh.
And she is not to blame,
Her choices are logic and practical
But at what point do we get out of our own way?

And so I shut off
And realize that has been my move lately to deal with reality.
Blue lights and blank emotions
The winter breeze swings the new planters on the patio.
The sweet potatoes wake me up and the pomegranates continue to amaze,
Growing more and more ruby as the summer days turn into early autumn evenings.

And although the caterpillars  transformation is covered in thick construction dust and the ground continues to shift,
I can’t help but feel hopeful
I am spring
We are spring.

“Hey Malcolm”
she said with a sort of sweet indifference-
“You want some water and chips?”

His reply-
Incomprehensible sounds that hung heavy
With the thick humidity.

Any other
would have not bothered but her altruism
shone like the surrounding brick.

“Water, chips?”
spoken with a familiar neutrality.
Her kindness did not waiver.

Not deterred-
By the state Malcom or his sour taste
or even the heavy heat

“Chips” he spilled.
The unrelenting sun laughed at his choice but
Her kindness did not waiver.

Door ajar,
She disappeared into the shadows to retrieve
her promised gifts to Malcolm.

Her building,
Glistening red squares that had been bought and sold
Many times since the 80’s.

And Malcom
was just one of the many casualties
to fall in the pure, white cracks.

“Drink water”
She had returned and handed him both drink and chips.
Her kindness did not waiver.

She did not
Ignore Malcolm or pass him by like most-
Her actions small but fearless.

Her kindness did not waiver.

Did you know?
That when you turn the lights off,
Your room comes alive--
And everything begins to dance!

The couches prefer to tango
And your clothes prefer to waltz.
While your shoes all do the salsa
Your books do summersaults!

Appliances like ballet
And the art just kind of sways.
Yes darkness can be scary
But do not be afraid.

Because your room comes alive
When you turn off your light-
So wish them happy dancing
When you say goodnight.

I once met a seahorse at sea,
She came up and swam next to me.
With her baby in tow,
But I had not known
That that mommy fish; she was a he.

The seahorse said how do you do?
I said “I am well, how are you?”
Daddy seahorse replied
“With my babe by my side,
How could I ever be blue?”

Read-a-book, Share-a-book, library,
That’s how it goes from you to me;
Read it, love it, put it on the shelf,
Then it can be read by somebody else!

You are my whole world
All that I do is for you
Your doors are always open
So that when I get inside
I go straight for your red cart.

You have two lovely children
A new puppy too
(Probably a Doodle or something close to)
Those are the things
That make you- you.

You check all the boxes
You love Target and honey,
Who wouldn’t love perusing
And spending all kinds of money.

When his friends come around, you shuffle right off
And chat with the others mom’s in the loft.

The kids run around you and the other ladies
After all, you’ve got the motherly instincts, their your babies!

Dinner is shared because he has his grill
But cleaning up later requires your skill.

But what do you do for the social injustice,
What happened to your dreams?
What do you do when your life’s in a rut?
What if it’s not a man she loves?
What about the state of the world?

I guess I didn’t want to write a poem,
I just wanted to ask you how your priorities became what they are on instagram?

I can see it when you look at me
Dedication, love, a commitment to be
The kind of mommy you’ve always wanted to be
I see it- when you look at me

I notice all the things you do
All the places you take me and the beautiful views.
You do so much for me and without I’d be nothing
The love that you show me goes above all things.

When you look at me
Your smile and eyes light up the room
While they ask for attention
But it’s me you consume.

Im the first place you look
In both morning and night,
The hours we’re together
are such a delight.

It’s a tragedy when I die-


But you always bring me back
Never mind those other moments
Did I mention I’m back?

So post the best pic
Hope you took more than one
Arn’t you so lucky
Your whole life is being written down?

Tell your child to hush-
They are being to loud
But make sure that you tag
Your friends in the crowd

Make sure that your cheers
Has the boomerang on
Ignore your partner
But make sure to take a mirror picture at the salon.

Starbucks is great,
That a picture of that
And make sure you get some thing documented
With a caption reading “coffee with bestie, great chat!”

And if the sun ever catches your eye
And makes you wonder if there is more
Make sure you put up your windshield sun catcher
Before you enter the store.

Apparently, being alone all the time makes my blood boil
It give me time to stew
Become a shrew
And release all my wrath onto you.

Tell them-
Tell them to take the property,
it's all their's to have.
Tell them to enjoy the bathtub where I birthed my first born
alone, in pain, and saw it go down the drain.
Tell them to soak in the morning light of the spare room we slept in separately all too often.
They themselves can have the windows closest to where the drive-by was.
Your greed and your wants have blinded you like the fresh coat of paint that illuminates the house.

But give me a moment to savor my land.
Let me breathe in the lavender I planted all those years ago
and spare me a second to watch the breeze dance with all the ivory.
Let me walk around my first garden and admire the bulbs,
brush against the lemon balm and the small batch of mint I planted in the shade.

I, too, want to live in peace but cannot scratch out the land
for my nails are still ***** from working my land.

Chocolate, sweet chocolate
How was I to know?
When I ate you yester-
where it would go.

Your crunchy dark square
I ate all in one bite
but little did I know
your powerful might.

I saw all the colors
and heard every sound.
That little sweet chocolate
did not **** around.

So if you're like me
and sweets call you name
beware- this could happen to you
all just the same.

I cam to drink a beer last night

after work was done,

I came to to blow off some steam

and just to have the one.



But then I saw my friends

and beer began to flow.

I drank a few more after-

how many I don’t know...



Because the details start to haze,

so let me settle the score.

When you go in for just the one beer,

You’ll end up drinking more.

Touch me often
Hold me close
Let me feel your love
beyond this poetry and prose.

I crave your heat
Seek your hand
Long for your presence
And don't always understand

Why I need you close
even at times of turbulence
your soft quiet contact
reminds me of your presence

And even when our
conversation's unknown
your sweet embrace
makes me feel less alone.

The wave does not ask before she crashes into your sand castle.
She tumbles ahead with a sort of mocking indifference.
Perhaps you brought both your buckets and your shovels
But her force comes from the changing tides.

I used to be scared of you
Never let them in
But now I embrace you
And can’t keep you within

Your briny slug trails
Trace down my cheeks
You’re one type of language
When out my soul speaks.

I used to be scared of you
Too much of a good thing,
But now you are a building block
To help it all to sing.

You are bold and bright and brazen,
While you compliment so well.
Once I understood you
In love is what I fell.

Like the ocean, you will always remember
The crisp layer of salt-
baked into your skin by the sun’s assault.
A part of your DNA now, you do not exist without it.

Sure, it’s both vast and secretive,
But your questions can never be answered
So many unknowns- your wondering cancered.
They too will rise or sink with the rolling of the waves.

Perhaps there is no storm that turns the tide
And your lips lose their briny bite
Maybe you learn to harness the power the seas invite
But the quiet of your mind sets with the sun.

And your skeptical sirens sing at night.

She moved here in September
In some ways, the wild west is still wild-
hidden behind brand new shields
bought off the lot,
reflecting the new murals as it passes by.

She'll never forget the fear that lives
one block away from the hip new brewery,
the ross- security guards suddenly not off beat.

"Shut that dog the **** up" he said with the aim on her dog
Real guns, smacked dab in the middle
of the attempted 40 west arts district.

What is it about governments that missed it
and try to make every poor neighborhood an arts district?

So then what?
The answer seems too easily answered
while the reply hangs empty.

And this place, Lakewood
nah, that's nothing.
You only get help if it's declared as something.

But mostly it's the words you said
when the smile faded for a brief moment
That changed me as a person.

And she is just one.
Humanity is layered in trauma
with the worst of it going to brown and black mamas.

Just there after, the lights dim down to a nearly indiscriminate fade.

The hush falls on the crowd like a falling line of dominos.

It’s the same reaction every time it plays

The nostalgics movies’ nostalgic rerun

Where one might be able to separate the self

But the memory plays heavy none the less.



We are standing in the kitchen

And I can see the sun catching the horizon

Just above the mountains and just before

The sun slides into the night.

Water boiled rapidly on the stove and

The air was drenched in steam and shame.



I wonder if you think about saying that

Or even think of it at all

Replay it, dim the lights,

Replay it, quiet the noise,

Replay it, and find your answer.

Your words repeat in mind without fail



In sips of quiet spaces, in moves of loud pockets.

The movie reel continues on

But is never without the clip

The lid of the boiling ***

Idles between stable and not.

It’s idea is preconceived that the
suffering is reprieved-
Those that deserve the burn in turn
eternally lie with others scorned-
That hell is earned.

But I see flames here on earth.

What does my sister think as she buries her child from the latest bombing?
What does my brother think when he is being pinned down?
Are we to believe the devil is not present in that knee?

And what is my sister to think when she awakens to gun shots entering her innocent body?
What do we call the place that allows my brother to die at the hands of another?
How do I explain to the child that hates himself there may be something worse waiting for him?

Where are the rules with which to live by that I can give to the little boy that was touched by his pastor?
The very same pastor that informs him of this place called hell-
What should I tell the mother who buries her child without knowing why?

I see flames here on earth-

Perhaps hell is not a place to
go but instead-
It is a place we know.
And the devil that we fear-
is here.

I ate the notes of music
as they exit speaker holes,
I grabbed them out the air
to feed my hungry soul.

I ate and ate and ate and ate
each note it was divine
I ate so many music notes
my soul danced the rhythm line.

Now I'm full of music
to keep me satisfied
but if my soul gets hungry
I'll press play and open wide.

If you looked in her purse,
what a world you'd find,
Sugar packets, tooth picks,
the purse itself was a shrine.
Cheddar bay biscuits
wrapped in paper napkins,
Those were her favorite,
doggy back wins.
Ketchup and creamers,
things to dip, pick, and ****
Nothing ever got wasted,
howbeit how strange
howbeit how odd.
You see it never much mattered what there was to take,
Depression era babies procured without some much as a shake.
I think about you when I see Sweet N’Low,
I miss you so much Gram, just wanted you to know.

You smelled different when I kissed you tonight,
A sort of sterile smell,
Sweet but foreign.
Your cries and your feet swollen with pain.
Your hunger is gone, at least mostly so.
Your eyes betray you
They share the secrets you’ve never told
They speak about the pain you’ve tried to hide
And they tell anyone who is listening about your broken spirit.
You’re living for us
And we for you.
We fake a smile and kiss you softly while our minds trail off in thoughts of never touching you again.
You are not gone yet
But we have quietly begun the procession.

The apocalypse brings cotton candy skies,
it is more beautiful than once supposed.
There is terror in the state of the world
But with it, the beauty, juxtapose.

While fires still rage down below,
even as day begins to fade.
The sunset stops you in your tracks
and takes your breath away.

The street lights buzz mid afternoon
intended light in the darkness of days.
but like the sun in the sky above
it only stands to illuminate the haze.

The apocalypse brings forests of snow white corals
it is more beautiful than once supposed.
The ocean has begun its game of chest
Death's strategy played unopposed.

Marble statues line the oceans' hues
Life and color have already fled
What was once a thriving coral reef
lies stagnant and desolate instead.

It's elegance is like fresh snow
A quiet field of white
It's hard to turn your eyes from God
though you know it's not quite right.

The apocalypse brings protests in the street
the people's message is well known
United cries for justice and peace
Interrupted when tear gas is thrown.

Say his name painted all around,
Harmony is the peoples' dream
A commonality of hope
bounce off shields of the swat team.

It's a wonder to see the united rise
Love kissing us all awake
For the betterment of all that live
shot down by fear and hate.

The apocalypse brings with it the beauty of life
Right before the end
At least enjoy the majesty
Before we all descend.

Charles Bukowski- Don't try

Franz Kafka- The idea that hardship is constant and insurmountable, but we try to mount it anyway

I've been calling it a ping recently
carelessly labeled like a home movie
or a sound effect without a title,
named out of thin air to solidify.

This ping does not toast with cheers or any joy,
No champagne bubbles in this type of ping.
This ping does not involve shared embraces
Though it is silently shared none the less.

This ping, instead, is similar to the
feeling of being impossibly lost.
It's like pin pointing the ambiguous
emotion of helplessness to real time.

This ping shows up in the physical realm
even though it is but a feeling felt.
You can see it when you look at their eyes,
Refusing to come up for air, look up.

This ping exists because there is so much
that goes unspoken between all of us.
Felt it when I found your old notebook, ping.
Felt it then too but tried to smile, ping.

This ping expects me to ignore you there,
pass by without a glance or a hello.
Feel it when I see red and your sign, ping.
Feel it when I pass you and your stuff, ping.

People often question weather humans
are ultimately good or if they're bad.
I usually just laugh and look down, ping.
My eyes, they shout "Isn't it obvious?"

The buzz of the fly trapped in an open house.
An artificial cylinder tips in the whisper of the open windows.

Three months of one sided conversations.

The day the door wider ajar with anticipation.

A disturbance like a celebration interrupted.
Darkness locks behind, webs but a vail.
Silence a future unknown.

It’s nice the way we all can see the trees,
Even if we can’t always see the difference.
The greens maybe a sort of color evolved
and we view the trunks as just things to climb.
But that does not dull the rainbow’s spectrum,
Perhaps that just changes the colors being seen.

In a world unlike the one you hail,
from the time your eyes awake and rise,
up until the dark takes up all the space,
between is the time to which you feel out
Side is real enough to touch and feel
It still yet remains a scene that feels unlike
Your own imagination it finds the magic it sought
out of this world into the hopeful lies waste away
the day has come to an end and the sun is down
under your skin, your bones, your blood you know
there must be magic because if not the why
would God create our lids to open up each morning?

Lately, I've been very grateful for the rain
It's given me the time to not water you.
It's given me the space to excuse.
It's not held me accountable.
It's made me more tired.
It's dripped it's drops so that I can ignore you.

Lately, I've been more grateful for the rain
because when otherwise, would I have time to dig this hole?

There is shimmer in those aspen leaves,
it begins with wind’s whisper midday.
And no matter what you might say or feel,
the flowers grow wild anyway.

Only the most vulnerable were present
The strongest had left with the sun.
The rolling hills were many shades of green and brown,
painted in detail was the earth and the sky.

The contrast of the flag
bold and unforgiving
would have waved above the camp
while it whistled a soft eerie song of lies.

The signs were all there
and spread throughout
but she did not speak his language
the language of the weak.

And as the men rolled in,
drunk with power and artillery
His eyes spoke of sadness and self hatred
while his body continued on to find worth.

We had an agreement
and I followed the rules
But alas, you danced through the night
moonlight illuminated the trail of destruction.

Even you knew it went to far
Passing the plains I too,
wish I could have hidden in the river banks
to avoid the surprise of the massacre.

The clouds would have bare witness
along with Sol, Sinfeild, Tuna, and the like
while betrayal slid his fingers along her curves
or ripped the innocence from the world.

The white flag of peace
carelessly splattered with red
would only be remembered and reminded
years later, recalled.

As I looked at those hills
my heart grew cold and unforgiving
and felt the spirits of the betrayed
all around, making it hard to take in air.

And somehow, I,
I am the one who must forgive
like those that have forgiven from the past
because hate in a heart leaves no room for love.

But what is love
what is peace
but an ideal
waiting to be betrayed by you.

The air was thick with rage and heat,
the steps were covered in cries.
Our mouths were masked to ward disease,
but did not cover our eyes.

The gray steps, with heat illuminated,
Bodies spread in clumps about,
The signs and shouts echoed one another,
as the collective emotion continued to mount.

From below we heard the plan,
Spread our message, bodies, and cover
we lay down our fronts and faces
to mimic the tragedy of past blunder.

With arms a top our backs
we all began to shout
"I can't breathe" came out our mouths
louder and stronger each time it came out.

For eight minutes and forty six seconds
we all continued to chant
Both heat and sadness swelling up
the seed of reality and the word "can't"

Because we couldn't breathe
and fear overwhelmed
Gone was the distance
from the feeling of hell.

And as the tears rolled down,
the sun acting as the knee
you could feel the fear
that George must've seen.

But when it was done,
because "after" was indeed a time,
we were all able to get up
and breathe in as a sign.

The sign was that we were all still alive
The simulation of that moment was gone,
How lucky we are to rise up when we know
George and many others cannot just get up and move along.

Yes I feel it too,
The twoness that defines
my role and expectation
cemented in their minds.

Yes I feel it too,
the twoness that is there
but my twoness doesn't keep me
from freely breathing air.

Yes I feel it too,
the twoness that burdens me
Though being paid less is not the same
as being pinned down by his knee.

Yes I feel it too,
the twoness he wrote about
My double conscious thinking
but pale skin is my clout.

Because Yes I feel it too
as a woman I am less,
but if I get pulled over,
my life is not in distress.

I can't imagine your kind of twoness,
what is constantly on your mind,
when you see both red and blue lights
flashing from behind.

For how is it you can be
both black and American
when life is always fleeting
because the color of your skin.

Why does poetry often taste of wine,
it's scripture mature and somehow divine.
Cloaked in time,
Each fruit note hidden behind
the words that don't come to mind
cheapened by childish rhyme.
Caught in a dance, intertwined
between two worlds, yours and mine.
Sometimes I think poetry is but a serpentine,
a recollection we must unwind.
Under beats and rhythm we are confined,
Syllables and feeling attempting to align.

Instead, I think I'll write for human kind.

When she walks into a room,
she can go totally unnoticed
or steal every ounce of oxygen in the place.
Her beauty is natural and imperfect,
coexisting in the same space to play tricks on the mind.
I've seen her both love and hate equally as hard,
and I know for a fact she exists in two places at once.
I can see what her eyes see and hear what her mind speaks.
The stories they tell are different, but sometimes all the same.
She lives her two lives alike while they themselves remain separate.
She does not chose to pick her favorite of the two,
for what purpose would that serve her?
She will always be apart of both,
one does not exist without the other.
To sentence her to live singularly would be
all but a punishment onto it self,
For what is the present without the mind
and what is the mind without the present?

They aren’t any more disruptive to the eye than any of the other buildings,
Human shelters mingle with the bark of the trees that line the dirt road like they have always been.
Written into history, together, man made and natural things.
Because nature's only language is song, everything else is mans.
The curious eye doesn’t skip a beat.
But your wall stands for so much more,
The white color a stanch contrast to the warm hues
that have grown up with the land.
Because we understand walls,
But what, we’d ask, are you protecting against?
Or who?

Lately I haven't been sleeping well,
I do not have the time,
My gram never read me the bible
but she planted in my mind
Ideas of living easy,
Brand names became divine,
it's not about the things or goods,
instead it's peace of mind.
If you cannot understand,
I'll try to speak to you
Philippians 4:8
says "whatever is true,
noble, right, pure, lovely,
worthy of your praise,
these things should consume your thoughts
all through out your days.
So get dressed in Sunday's best,
it's the christian thing to do,
but while you're reading scripture,
I won't be in the pews.
Because I won't just sit and wait
to cash in on peace of mind,
While everyone one else' sleepin,
I'll be on the grind.

You were like an open book,
your life was a series of mixed messages,
Draped in the sheer silk of tragedy.
I don’t remember you, all of you,
whether that’s my fault or circumstance,
But I do remember moments,
Specifics, things that were uniquely yours.

I remember the roses,
I don’t know if I’ll ever forget.
They smelled like a fresh reminder
I didn’t give you enough credit.
It was not the roses, it was the detail.
The white door probably squealed when you opened it,
Mystery and illusiveness gone in an instant.

I never asked you how that all went,
Or when you actually did it.

My mind casts out nets when wondering
And from time to time,
It’ll catch you in its net and you will be brought to the surface.
I’ll remember you hated basketball,
But we’re always pointed in that direction.

I’ll remember your brother, your mom.
I never even asked you their names.
But I know them
And their story, your story,
Is now apart of my minds ocean.

And the way the end happened,
Your aunt called me…
And never called me back.
Why? What exactly did she say?
I can’t recall. It was all so… real.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it for a while.

During this whole pandemic,
I didn't even think once about you.
When I get scared at night,
I don't wish you were near.
When I long for touch
It's not yours I desire.
Because it was never you, or you, or you.
I have been birthed of the barrier
of a small summary in history.
I can see in both directions,
nothing but untold stories mixed with endless potential.

But I digress.
Because the point is not about the past or the future,
It's about a hopeless feeling,
Strangling your heart beat,
consuming your mind.

Life, as it is, as it were,
moves and you have always been stagnant.
So it is in the past you shall remain.
But a mere smudge in my colorful life.

It seems appropriate that today,
the sun stay hidden.
Because when the sun is out,
it's impossible to feel complete sadness,
it's hard to feel invisible and alone.
For the sun brings with it,
the trees, and the leaves, and the birds, and the breeze.
The sun has a way of warming your bones,
kissing you gently and smiling softly.
Today, it is appropriate that the sun not come out
because if it were around,
I could not stand to be so sad and lost and alone.
But somehow the sun knew to stay away
because this feeling is too great a weight
to be able to burn away like a cloud.
It is appropriate that the sun remain hidden today
because only the grey sky could possibly match this feeling.

It spread equal through night
as it did through the day
cholera choose victims
the lottery way.
For it's little to matter,
if you lived upstairs or down,
like the air that we breathe,
the threat always round.
It grabbed hold of the cities,
it's grip tight, unforgiving,
no wall could deter it,
no way to stay living.
While some of your neighbors,
stayed put, kept inside,
when cholera stuck,
they would not survive.
Normalcy gone,
with the rest it had fled,
to live was to say,
you're just not yet dead.

The Wind had already begun to stir
When your heads finally looked up
It’s as if I appeared out of thin air
The sounds of the emerald thunder
Elusive like your paper thin shoes.

Today I got the mail you had sent.
It was intertwined with the thin
paper of monotony and bills.
The letters all yelled in little voices,
shaded from travel but glowing.

I first looked for any order
but there was known. I
couldn't keep them locked anymore
so I began with the front.

My previous name, a previous life
brought to the surface in all capitals.

My memory reel began,
and so did my tears. We
had some great times, you and I,
before there was anyone else.

Mary said it best,
"one day you finally knew,
what you had to do, and begun..."
Every piece of past pieced to
zoom out, further out,
until it comes into focus.
The bigger picture for you to
cling on to. If the devil
is in the details, I have
lead my life under his red guidance.

When you kissed me this morning,
it all seemed to melt away with the rising sun.
I couldn't sleep last night
unless that too was a dream.
Tossing, tossing, turning to stare
into the eyes of oblivion.

Can't get it off my mind.
Not sure if I care or care because
our secrets are now shared. Do
they whisper across the room,
pointing with only their eyes and ill will.

"Some would say you're cooler because you don't."

But no one really says anything, to our faces.

Perhaps my inner monologue will subside with the setting sun.

Just the other day,
you laughed so hard your eyes
almost completely closed and the tone of
your laugh peaked into it's highest octave.

It was one of those uncontrolled laughs that happen when
you are being savagely tickled, the kind that
escapes from deep in your body, gasping for air,
for life.

But my hands were not on you, the laugh
happened anyway. I am Jack's overwhelming sigh of relief.
It was reassurance,
it was nice, that you still laugh that way,
that I can still make you laugh that way.

I can stop holding my breathe.

We've had our share of low points over the years, that is
not to say this roller coaster is not shared.
But we never compare tickets, we keep them close
So no one ever talks about the ride, not really.

And just as the mechanical beast spun around the corner,
at a point low enough to touch the ground,
we caught glance of another.

We could point at it and shame it for it's color,
it's chipped paint and leaning axel.

What a ridiculous looking roller coaster,
those poor people, we thought from our pedestal,
They look so unhappy.

And frankly, for that matter,
I'm tired of wanting to fit into the vision
that others seem to burden us with.

You barely even know me, I
have to look at the screen to summon your name.
But your opinion falls out of your mouth,
like we've been friends for years and
you couldn't wait to share the good news.

I don't like it, any of it,
not because of you, perhaps just a touch,
but because you know nothing about us.
The devil is in the details and,
so is that of the reflection of love.

And now we have the weight of it all on our shoulders,
to carry up the mountain and walk with on the beach.
Hands clasped, or not, the weight is a cloud of expectancy
that lingers over us.
Tainted.

There it goes,
It's not mine anymore.
I made a mistake, that part is true,
but you grabbed hold of it and shook the life out of it.
Honestly, it wasn't even that fun while it lasted, mostly
it was exhausting. I haven't yet decided
if I let this happen or if you made it happen.

But really either way, I
don't care. So what, dumb things happen all the time.
No one was complaining before.
In fact,
they will all already be there. So it'll just be the four of us, miserable.

Remaining is the question,
do you suffer, or do I?