One time I felt like I was ice skating on Lake Michigan in a blizzard.
I lost the shoreline forever.
And the grip of fear.
I was out of place like a 14 year old listening to Hejira.
I still feel so in a way.
No gazing at my rear.
I got laid in my hometown and I sneer at my childhood friends like I never loved them.
I’ve been different 20 people since my birth and I feel like I’ve found the one that suits me best.
Like a fuzzy coat in winter, taking meds, healing slowly, **** my ex, I’m skating on Lake Michigan, baggage back in Madison, far from wifi, farther from home, I feel nothing but nipping from the frigidity and tight embrace of freedom.
I skate on into the blizzard and I haven’t seen a winter so winter-like since I rode on a sleigh pulled by my uncle’s car ‘round my beloved apartment complex.
All I see is white.
Like a fresh page of life.
You sow nothing, you get nothing.
Find no weevils in your garden, sweet fruit either.
That’s why I’m leaving y’all to concentrate on what I want and I skate into the nothingness of Lake Michigan, where only frostbite’s capable of breaking my heart.
It’s just a rest stop though.
I’ve yet to rise in love.
I’ll have my pasta date in Paris someday.
I’ll regret wasting my first real kiss with a hookup, I just didn’t wanna die a ******, so I squandered something artificial, boo-*******-hoo, life’s a travelog, put my fuckboys’ names in a catalog, remember what they gave me.
So let me swirl around, draw curvy lines, interlacing hearts.
Privately pretty.
Let me daydream of the day when I feel pretty as to get me some, when I dive into his ***** arms, wrap them round me like a shawl I’ve never worn, but feel like home.
I’m skating on Lake Michigan, left my heart in Madison, en route to Manhattan.
And I’m on the mending route of heart.
Poem #8 off “Bella Goth” and the second promotional poem off the collection.