poetry.

hav-a-nap:

we spent an evening in the hav-a-nap looking through a lens trying to make pretty pictures.
cotton candy coloured sky, man-made haze & tiptoes across a well-worn (& questionable) floor.
gratitude replaced gracelessness as his skill far superseded my awkwardness.

my mom’s vacuum finally stopped working.
my brother said “that sucks”.
she had duct-taped the hose. it was hard to let it go.
it was a dumb vacuum. it barely had an attachment & i was not attached to it but her hands put that duct tape there, so it’s another piece of something she touched that i no longer have.
the new vacuum is shiny with lots of buttons.
it will do the job far better than hers, but a clunky tired vacuum is fine by me.

my heart skipped a beat when i saw him on my dating app.
happy to see his face.
heartsick that he’s looking for love.
i laughed a little that we’re there.
when really, we’re right here.
sometimes i think i have too much love to give.
at the detriment of loving myself.

i hope you slept. i hope you feel rooted.
i hope the sun is shining where you stand.
 
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old man parade:

i stopped the car to let him go.
he was slow like molasses & wearing fancy trousers.
he made it halfway across the street & then he caught my eye.
worrying little about anyone else, he stopped to blow me kisses.
his very own old man parade.
i grabbed those kisses & sent them straight back.
i can’t remember if i was in a hurry or not.

one singing upstairs.
one reading beside me.
it’s quiet on our street today.
sometimes we spy outside but only to be informed.
(& only sometimes to be nosy)
ours is not the same as the rest of the houses.
but it’s cozy.
& it’s comfy.
& it always smells like home.

scrolling through old photos & texts.
what a glorious & dangerous thing to do.
a different time, a different him, my mom. my dad, a life once lived.
but isn’t it transcendent to be transported.
back. there.
it makes me feel lonely & lovely & my gratitude overrides my despair.
we said those things. we looked that way.
we meant every single word.

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