Everything she said hit his eardrum
like a rimshot. Maybe he was losing
his hearing or she was just losing
his attention. Dinner conversations
across a two foot table flew past
him like houseflies. With her soft,
blonde hair blanketing his collarbone,
her mouth seemed to pantomime
more the closer he leaned in.

I may not know how to hold
my liquor or change a flat tire.
I don't know how to throw
a spiral, so I'll just chalk it up
to magic laces.

I have no idea how jet planes
work or how to solve equations.
I'm not so strong, and I know I'd
lose in a fight against
any one of your exes.

I'm afraid of spiders, bees
and grizzly bears, thrill rides,
ocean tides, and one day
dying alone. Hell, I'm scared
for next week.

I do know how to sew the holes
in your favorite pair of jeans.
I can make you some hot cocoa
because you can't stand coffee's
taste.

I know how AV cables work
and how to play Donkey Kong.
I'd rather fight with words
than fists but still, I'd prefer
to avoid conflict.

I'm not afraid of going broke,
disease or dying young,
holding hands on your grandma's
couch, or staying up too late.
I've got this life figured out

on a napkin in my car.
You don't have to be jacked,
high, popular, cool or rebellious,
angry, tough, or accepted
to live.

A man stumbled over to Catherine’s car
and pounded on her window. She cracked it.
“W-welcome to New York. Want to buy a map?”
A cigarette filled in the large gap of missing teeth
in his smile, and the stench of alcohol ran over it.
The light changed, and Catherine sped off.
The man stepped backwards out of his sandals
and tripped on the curb. He landed in a pile
of garbage bags as Catherine readjusted
her mirror.
**Welcome to New York.

I bent my toes over the tub
like talons on a sunbaked branch
and clenched the curtain
in my gloved hands.

I sprayed Tilex on a scouring
pad and scrubbed the black mold
riddling the ceiling and caulked
edges of the shower like leprosy.

My lungs filled with nitrogen,
oxygen, and argon as well as
sodium hypochlorite and hydroxide,
spores, and mycotoxins.

I staggered backwards, trying
to find solid ground but found
only a dazed, curtain-wrapped
fall to the cold linoleum below.

I followed a mob march of taillights
back from work. Two rows of thirty flames
spaced out streaked the darkness
beneath the looming sparkler
adding stars to midnight sky.
Roman candle travelers eager to burn
out tried to shoot past traffic
on slivers of unoccupied sidewalk.
The closer they got to town,
the more stars faded above
their hoard of torches.

She leaned against a telephone pole
grounded in searing concrete. Her white
dress blew in the balmy breeze like
balcony curtains. Her Merlot lips
and azure lashes popped against
her skin. She wore a citrus perfume
to garnish every hip swing and shoulder
roll with a tropical accent. Like a tambourine,
the silver bangles chimed on her left wrist
with every footstep.
Her heels sunk in the veiny tar patches
that criss-crossed each parking space
several times over.

Her eyes are like tidal waves,
constantly threatening to break
the cornea and drown me.
She lures me past the buoys
and lets the tides pull me farther.
My hands are like paddles,
pushing water behind me but never
enough to regain sight of the shore.
I take in a few more breaths of dry air
before I'm completely submerged.
I cannot see the sand beneath me,
so I take one last look at her sunflower iris
blossoming above the waves before
my lungs give out.