Some things you have to learn to keep
to yourself. Davey points two fingers
about where my heart should be
& pulls. “Bam! You’re dead!” Just like that.
This and a thousand times more. I stay up late
worrying about what might explode if I sleep.
Things change at the worst
We are laughing. I am pouring
cinnamon and sugar over warm bread & singing
about love. Always love. Then the long car ride
with my shoes in the back seat.
Past the 5 & Jefferson and down to
the little room where no one ever calls me
by my name.
Matt scoops a handful of ants
into his mouth, claims they get hot the longer
they run across the tongue.
Tips his head back
like he’s waiting for a rain we
only ever talk about. Then it’s unbearable.
So maybe I was never kind.
All my decades amounting to that summer,
when I dug my fist deep into the meat
of a tree. When I pulled out what was inside and
crushed it beneath my fingers,