I don’t mean this

I take it back so don’t get too

excited, but

You’re my broken time machine promise—

my not mine—

the arch of your feet and that look you shot when i said that

first nice thing I ever said and it made me uncomfortable

Your

demeanor is the taste of ginger

and your condescension is just as spicy and you’re

the lights on the highway at night that always calmed me but never had a name before I could recognize your handwriting,

and I cried in the kitchen with the lights off over nothing,

and thought about how you’d think it was funny.

we Ten Dansen yes

we hellbound dyslexic aspiration

we big ideas we no execute

we who we wanna be

we do what who we think we wanna be do

we the ****** poem I laughed at not

cuz it was stupid

but cuz it was true and this is stupid

You’re a beer on the pavement and

drunks run in the family

You’re a korean bbq in the city at midnight.