the second night that I've known to drape my skirt over the light,

the second card in the tarot deck that never gave us any good advice,

the second drag,  the second sip,  the second year
the second trip.

the second time I've slept in a bed that isn't mine.
the only time I spent a night that was immortal,
and could not be measured as a waste of time.

the second child who misses her older brother,
who I have realized is my charge,
and gives me purpose as an angel,
a guardian angel,  undereducated and undercover.

the second day of 1995,
the youngest guest, the most naive friend;
and the last to arrive.

the second that I realized I was worth far more
than I was ever led to believe, the second decade and the very definition of disbelief.

the second glass of a drink you shouldn't take,
that leaves you out on the porch with a story you couldn't fake.

the bass, and the mattress,
the house that isn't mine.
the ache, and the sickness,
that will make you write the line.

"did you ever think you would be this blessed?"