Thunder, it soothes me,
and quiet disrupts.

Must I always argue with everything?

people are wearing masks
to keep each other safe.

and i thought 'how sweet,'
and 'of course.'

It's nice to know,
that while i've grown duller,
the stuff inside of me
is still bright-red.

"It must have been hard for your mother,
not having any children."
Ann Lowell.

You have to admire
these people,
so ready to love the worst in
themselves.

Remember when we were all legs,
all pomade,
all grayscale and bright,
when our joy was only getting bigger?

Yeah,
me neither

and I think I prefer
being bored
with our color.

It's a nice place to spend the afternoon though.
It's beginning to be a habit
with me.

you called me an angry thing,
said i blamed the leaves for falling
and noticed you less.

i loudly disagreed.

but as i watch you call for cabs,
scratch your ear,
and pack your books,

i miss the angry thing
i used to be.

we missed each other like bricks,
talking into navels.

each sighting uneven.
always just leaving.

somehow we made home,
kissed bellies,
and met.

two floors below me
someone's turning seven

to the sounds of beanbag slaps,
updates on cousins,
spanish singalongs,
and a dog stealing cake.

i freeze myself in flyby squealing.

i cough into my elbow.
my coffee grows cold,
afraid that if i'm here too much
it may just float away.