I think too much about you--
in the morning; when i roll over
into the pillows stacked on the right
side of the bed where I no longer sleep
(but I will)

and at night, 'cause for a moment I
was using alcohol to lessen whatever
need be lessened but now I can't
stand the thought of forgetting that way,
or forgetting at all
so at night I open my blinds and
leave the door unlocked--praying
things will heal and that this will buff out
(and it will)

there are things that I don't even know
that i worried about, things i never
asked or thought to ask because they
cut too deep--i shouldn't have to ask
if i knew, but that's just the thing, isn't it?
we had never seen these sides of each other
whether they were the
worst or not, both terrifying and hurt
better out than in,
i'm not sure what he thinks of me now, but--

he doesn't answer and I realize that maybe that is the answer--
the, no, i'm not good enough anymore, not after all this.
so i woke up this morning and made my bed,
called my dad, washed the dishes, put up my hair
and
      continued
        

   on.

haven't seen my dad in almost
three months, so he came over
to talk about the weeds
and the dandelions
the lilacs that i haven't
planted and the creepers
tangling around the
fence posts,
he touches the leaves
softly like he does with
most things, circles the
yard and scuffs the gravel
with the heel of his boot
inspecting for the usual--

How've ya been? and I
nod because my dad hasn't
known a single thing 'bout
my life since I was 16

i'm getting a dog. I say, holding
my hands out from here to there,
half Shepard and somethin' else,

i still expect repercussions for doing
things on my own but he just smiles
and goes on about dog doors and
how i still don't have a gun in my house

branson was saying i should think about not
gettin' a  .22 and he pulled out
his glock for me to feel per the norm

where've you been?
around.
how's work? while i pull the slide back
and slip out of my sneakers
you know how you walk into a room
and they treat you different?

He's leaving now, his gun back in the holster
holds out his arms for a hug.

they don't like you much, huh?
no. and i laugh, to stop from cryin' and
mask the shake in my voice
it's alright, though, pays the bills and stuff.

i have no desire to tell him about the
things that have been happening lately
about Matt and the bars and the trip
to Walgreens for a two minute test
i want to ask him why he didn't
tell me more about boys and men
when I was little but that's a
silly question when I'm grown

we never tell each other love you
we just go, so he leaves,
his bikes packed in the bed
down 19th, truck grumbling
the way they all do.

walking to clink of a tambourine
i've got heavy chains but they ain't no thing
i've got no deep cuts but lots of ghosts
let's not compare traumas because
our boys have it worse

i'm not injured but i drag a lot of bodies
got a lot of bones in my trunk, no baggage
cause i lost it in departures but a hell of a carry-on

i've called myself a lot of terrible things in the past
few weeks thinkin' that might build him up
but i could keep doin that and be stripped
away, he's spent years callin' himself the bad guy
and i've spent it writing ***** in my journals
the hundred year flood seems to happen twice a decade
opening up
turning the corner
can't keep saving the blame for winter

i am chasing you down
an alley way, the slap of
my shoes echoing up the
shoots,

standing in front of your bike
your head tilted back, a toothpick
wobbling up and down between
your teeth, hold a blank
stare, jaw slowly working
i think i should slip between
your handlebars like a siren on a ship

speedwalking backwards-- stop, stop
in front of your door, head tucked
the railing catching a fall
and then wanting to
fold myself into
an origami butterfly
when you launched
off the couch and used
a voice no one has ever

I don't fully cry
until you mutter
jesus ******' christ
slip off the recliner
and hold me.

my mama used to tell
me I had something special
and I used to believe it with
every fiber of my being,

and when i was stretched
thin into highschool thinkin'
I was a sinner I still hefted
her words up on my
shoulders and plowed on
sure I could do no wrong--

you gotta off the weak limbs
**** out the poison, cut the
bad blood so I did and
realized that I'm no
special child, no bell
around my neck
nor gold in my veins
and I've always equated
worth to *** or how
well I can shake my hips

Strangest thing, enough
when I ain't no thing at all,
just a regular doe,
jane smith
baby blue
mint green
with a different
name.

in battle they tell you to push on
grab your gun and move forward, advance.  advance
in one way or another I have always
been told to stop doing the things
that make me, myself--
but for your sake I won't
bring them up, i will avoid
the work, the big words.

we let ourselves where emotions lead
follow willingly into fleeting thoughts,
run desperately where there are lights
where there is sound, where there are others
when we should venture into the night.

Venture. Travel. Traverse. advance.

In battle they tell you onward
pick up your gun and fight, advance, advance
I have always lived up to expectation
until the last moment when i don't
when I have deteriorated into a
little girl, when I am the last straw,
the one that breaks your back (again)
but to bring this up is insufficient
because pretty words don't really
mean what I say or say what I mean,
right?

so our emotions take us where
they please, misguided and
utterly attracted to company
when we should venture into the night.

Venture. Rove. Peregrination.

the key is
to walk into
walgreens like
you intended
to be there--
and joke with
the cashier while
she scans in that
little 11.99 box
put a smile on
and laugh with
her because
maybe she'll
think you've
been planning
for this.