I circle the date, buy a calendar, repeat steps to questions in the shower, deliver myself as close as I can to the platform. You get off a green line train to the left of my complex. The third sentence is No one’s turned up. You’re screaming. No one wants to eat. I’m running through my hair. We’re together in… Read more →
Every country has a me to be sad about. A mine. A isn’t this another, same time? We talk us up through a flurry, pace downhill. Class is college when you’re attending to it. There’s a train because one’s here & we are still, aimed for concrete.