would you like hot sauce

the man asks me

i've ordered the pesto fusilli.

he's asked the same to the salmon

and steak frites next to me.

this is a walking town you say -

full of cars and purchased superiority.

a small town of so called

sophisticates

where men watch me open my mouth to eat.

where can i get a morning cocktail?

may your days

be filled with fresh grapefruit juice

and sweating hot tub laughs

gravel dives for an escaped dog

bunny coffee runs

and a cigarette in the outdoor shower.

may your days

be an early spring marsh sunburn

ignored outlook notifications

and white bean salad stirred with shared hands.

tears in a nail salon

over a friend’s forgotten book

and a screen door scaring all in the night.

just scooping salsa like soup

in a familiar silence.

i may never see you again

but if you die today

i'm taking a train

to your loud twin bed

to roll in the sheets

of your brothers bed

which you prefer

ill walk in sheep meadow

and take your place

screaming to the woods

i wont forgive you for the words

you did not say

or the texts i sent

saying i'll never love the same

please don't die.

if i write enough to-do lists

will it make

your laughter from our living room

less grating

if i drink enough green

will it allow me

to pretend the smoke doesn't stain

if i pulse and press

will it remind me

that i am able-bodied

today may be

black coffee wet hair puffs

there are worse ways

to stay alive.

I haven’t slept somewhere

That you haven’t held me

It doesn’t keep me from cleaning my sheets

But it keeps me from falling asleep

You’re not the one for me

Just the one I’ll always need

Our style of communication a word game

You have my passwords

is it still a letter to

my lover

if i never send it?

to all the people

i've loved and

left on read

i haven't forgotten

your favorite socks.

i used your graded bio test

as my bookmark.

if i stare hard enough

my front teeth pulse.

glass so dark i only see

my face as a landscape.

it's the kind of grime

no scalding can solve.

there's this red fleece

with smokers holes and no home.

i hope he's keeping

something warm

because i can only

remember the cold stare.

have you seen it?

I went to an empty

garden

trying to remember

my dad’s birthday.

but instead i turn

the page and have

to pee.

I write on monogrammed

cardstock covered

in cashmere and wonder

where to wipe my nose.

not today

maybe tomorrow.

I write love letters like

suicide notes

and lick plates

at bar pitti as if it’s my

last meal.

Filled mason jars with aperol

if only at home.

I ordered expensive

sushi to last the

length of delivery.

But describe the

tuna as life changing.