Nine

A woman on the tv in gloves and fleece and a boa has the same color hair as she does. A too-fake blonde with too-real black and white mixed in.

My boyfriend calls and tells me he loves me and I wish that's all she wanted.

The lobby played 92.9 and I stopped for long enough to hear a listener call in and say, "she's been through so much for me. I wouldn't blame her if she gave up all hope, but she lives life to the fullest, and I love her for it."

A little girl from my church texts me and I can't bare to respond, but cringe more knowing she will ask her on Sunday where I am. What could she possibly say?

I start to cry seeing that she is number 11 on my recent recipients list for text messages. 11 out of 20. My life has never, ever, ever, been that way.

I miss something and I don't know what it is. Maybe it's checking the mail, or the smell of the house, or how she would buy junk food when I had been gone for long periods of time, and it'd be sitting out for me. The way I knew that was her way of saying she'd missed me. Maybe it is just thinking of her alone, when all her defenses are dropped, and she is as vulnerable as I am in this moment. Maybe she's, though. There's no way for me to know.

33

What the water wants is hurricanes,
and sailboats to ride on its back.
What the water wants is sun kiss,
and land to run into and back.
I have a fish stone burning my elbow,
reminding me to know that I'm glad
that I have a bottle filled with my old teeth.
They fell out like a tear in the bag.


Move.
Quickly.