I want to scream for her,
cry with her,
hold her.
I’d die for her.

But no matter what I want for her,
it already happened to her.

Still, I’ll keep fighting for her,
and maybe he’ll apologize to her.

And I hope she can say:

I don’t need your words,
I have your actions.
I have no self-pity,
I don’t see the attraction.

I have respect for myself
and love from some others.
They are my family,
my sisters and brothers.

You are nothing to me.
Don’t flatter yourself
as breaking me down.
I feel no shame in myself.

You are the one I feel sorry for,
flopping around like a bug on the floor.

You don’t have a friend in this world
‘cept the mud and the grime.
Do you really think your words
can turn back time?

Well I have to fly now,
I have places to be,
things to do,
and loved ones to see.

I’m a full-fledged bird
who has learned how to soar.
I don’t have time
for small bugs on the floor.

And with that, she would turn
and fly far away,
leaving the bug alone
with nothing to say.

Composed of
beautiful mistakes, blots black as pupils
folded and mirrored
into Rorschach patterns, where we
accidentally find shapes in the discord.

If only we could fold this satin square
of time into complex mazes and
unending reflections,
until all that is visible are the
identical inked dots where
the heat of the asphalt in June is nestled.

“The news told me,” she said, like we were close, “the news said nearsightedness isn’t just genetics, isn’t just luck of the draw.” I’d never been a gambler. My interests were absorbed in my spoon’s inverted picture.
“What I mean, is clarity is in the hands of the person.” Or in the eyes. “You look at things too close when you’re young, and you lose focus forever.”
Her arms crossed over her uniform, a seafoam apron. She looked through her bifocals at her thoughts. Four kids in seven years. Her body was tense and doughy from the push and pull of life.
“Now imagine that,” her roadrash voice rumbled. “If I had just looked at the horizon more I wouldn’t need these **** lenses. My whole life could’ve been different.”
I pushed my empty coffee cup in her direction so she had a better reach, and gave her a half smile. “Yes. Imagine that,” I said.