four students
printed out sudoku
ac unit whirrs in the room

the disappointment pressed
slacks
too sunk for
integrals and L'Grange

krooser warms my desk
eyelids drooping
sentences left in the birches

why do I see your hair in every song?
your outline in each sunset
your name like mango
in white sand

lavender skies and
paintings on an apricot wall
in a restaurant
with pad thai burning my throat
that reminds me of your hands

even in paradise
the flowers match your eyes

syrupy brown eyes
mom might take pills
can't read your neck

abandoned cottage
in occupied woods
brother does pull ups
too young to care

rust and caramel
apple pie in the oven
you made the crust

took ten tries to park on the curved street
can picture the house now
piano pieces on deck
drove for chocolate cookies

sitting in
northridge traffic
to show I care

crème colored shirt
covers hazelnut skin
I envy the arm
wrapped around her waist
a stranger with a smile
like meadow butterflies

my face
a sun dried plant
as three sets of eyes
search for any clue

I am eager to leave yet
linger with the thought of
meeting you

driving home
take me to simpler times of
doing homework in the back
of a friend's minivan
when late was 10pm
and hope was closer
than the stars

wanting to hug
a girl with
perfect hair

heat rises from the strands
of my worn hoodie

you handed me peach rings
I drove along the 405
an extra twenty minutes went by
toll freeway avoided,
pep talks peppered throughout.

valet greets my toyota corolla
crystal birds hang from the ceiling
unnecessary elegance,
statues and marble.

reached the beach from the cliff overlooking
skipped the tram, we'll carry our own chairs
eating bay cities
burrata dripping out of french loaves
let me hold this time and place for months to come.

walking along, gray skies and clear waves
my dad comes up
the air grows heavy
silence weighted the salty air
raw thoughts

the heads of dolphins spring up
squeals and phones leave pockets
how nature cuts through ache.

ironing a white button down for dinner
only use mascara
tonight your pallets of brown and rose
close enough to assess every pore
I am safe in your penmanship.

rushing to catch hues of pink
just missed it a blond lady says
wasn't good anyway.
heat lamp far away, shivering
denim jacket fits as if I
picked it out myself

made it five minutes before closing
brown sugar boba
soft serve you eat so slow

knocked out in bed
driving wore me out.

next day
a bride preps for the altar
I sit and watch sleep hold you close
cakey blueberry muffin breakfast
two cappuccinos, whole milk.

reaching wilshire
I can't decipher your eyes
Mr. L pulls out a pizza bigger than me
new york style, best you've ever had
I hope my empty tank is enough.

I'm chewing soil
my jaw is breaking out
lips are ****** and the
rubber band on my
wrist means nothing since
I can't seem to get
out my calculator and
be okay with legs that
don't take me out
but carry my eyes to
swim in filth

cherry eyelids dart
into frail english
quick wrists
walking a few inches below

I go to grab ice and see you washing pots
steam rising to your masked face
making conversation over the noise
don't hear a thing but nod in your smile

taking orders with
missing holes in my shirt
rows of sandpaper graze my fingers as I
wait for a red badge

shoes strapped and *****
warm air hits
sitting and reading
in the dingy light

I have mapped out the grooves of your face
each line and crease etched in
brewed herbs to burn my chest

looking at you with the moon half empty
the shape of your brows
nose twitches and puffy lips

staring even a pretty forehead
a band or show so I can stand beneath you longer
shallows of notes in conversation

the flowers here wear
dusted yellow

fruit bearing plants sit
in the sun's humid air

friendly with birds
roosters roam in dirt

ash and coconut make a home
thick anger with no place to lay

in the garden of pinks
no bug works
the sun burns brown
walking uphill to a spilled drink

a mother coated in blue

backstreet of glendale
ivy chokes the cream corner
water drips
and drips
the koi secure in its fall

we are the only ones there
family or gaping holes?
the air quiet

I am scolded
clothing too wrinkly
clumsy gold hoops
look of disdain hits my forehead

aunty fights for tea, free with meal
too light, why rose water?
I'll wait for yours.

stomachs puffed with buttery rice
soap opera on
catching glimmers of language I wish
was written in my skin
chai brewing
allspice cinnamon
stikan just warm
I drink two more

the country a train ride's distance
tables dusted and old

paintings on every street
frames of gold
and engraved wood
hands I cannot take

a god of my own making
I look for your eyes from across the room
my stomach dances in the dim light
what I don't have
written in your forehead

silk clings to your skin
fingers graze a little too long and
I don't know why I have nothing to say
when you stare at me

marble carved out of dust

my fingers intertwine when you
stand next to me
your body a showing of creation

glitter eyes I catch through a counter
crooked teeth
gaze floats in a smile

though the headset beeps
my head freezes
when your hair grazes my arm

a gold band chokes like
the scrunchie on your head

upper lower back aches yet
it's past twelve as I watch you
mop the floors

to be pulled away in its hold
thoughts float towards the grey sky
body shivering, too cold to feel
anything other than the water's touch

no one else for miles it seems
I am not drowning but the salt
cuts into my red arm

caves of solace in the
absence of your eyes