hammock and a stack of playboys.
first emerged,
boy.
feature trees and teens and punch drunk lovers.
chalk murals,
girl.
into the quiet density of love.
quiet city.
dance party, usa.
we end up making movies about our fathers
whether we know it or not.
home videos.
we double down on arcade tickets
& spin for a kite to tangle.
climb the town hill and bury our warmth.
kiss to forget or remember this bliss
& strange language.
strange sprawl of lights seen.
the homeowner’s association melt a pile of plastic flamingos
into an idol osiris.
dead god.
& wait,
wait for halloween.
our parentals diligently sweat.
they are conjurors of snacks and supper.
they are creatures of the ritual routine.
we ritual.
we homework.
we breathe easy, waiting for nothing.
(except for more holidays)
recently published in The Bayou Review
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