A dinner at home with strangers

Remembering dreams I don’t remember

Missing my grandfather I never met

A walk

A murmur

A long walk full of murmurs

For you to meet me where I’m broken

For you to look past and look back at

My back muscles torn and sore from yesterday’s crunches

Wanting a career, wanting more space, wanting more friends,

but then to stop wanting

Understanding that I have too much

A difficult phone conversation with my dad

A difficult phone call from a friend who says,

“things will change once you get married”

Blank staring at one of the hairs of your eyebrows

Blank staring at the edge of the not-yet-full moon

A blank stare

A hum

A vibration

An awkward dance that is sometimes miserable

An awkward dance that wants to be charming

For you to dance along

Your favorite winter coat with many holes

A love letter that has been forgiven of its corniness


A breath

Breathing, but then coughing from the cigarette smoke

Forgetting your name for the second time and being sorry,

and then being ok

Learning the word, ‘OK’

A treasure map for all the treasures I don’t want to chase after

Trying to un-believe that I weigh more than the sky

Trying to go around you, in between and above you, and underneath you

Trying not to spill a bowl full of hot soup,

and then spilling it

A bad prayer

Still a prayer