little town camper girls gazing absently at the sun streams, rubber-clad feet coming together into a huddle of the same, with oil black hair shifting quick in the air and my larynx attempting to leap out of itself, my chest feeling thin as i carve through old conversations (imprinted underneath my dura mater)
i find danielle- a frog faced girl always frozen in stress
i picture you fretting amidst piles of clerical filth
i picture myself as a foolish mailman spitting half-thoughts into the face of someone searching for a more grounded approach
i used to be thrilled i wasn’t you but now i’m not quite so sure
misuse and embarrassment with the icicles that are my ribs, clamoring down your ladder,
which only ever had a rung or two to begin with