I’m surveying the damage after a storm.
We made out on my couch for three hours and then I made him
leave Chocolate covered gummy thin mint confidence Sleeve
of double stuffed It’s always too much or never
enough Graham cracker
betty crocker
vanilla
bean
fluff
I’m surveying the damage after a storm: Upturned pillows of my sectional, spilled Sancerre, my Martha Stewart face of rigid vulnerability. Dr. John adjusts his glasses asks if I’m compartmentalizing—Membrane of the days dissolve into our new season; Cardi B says WHAT WAS THE REASON
It was never physical.
Where does this come from, asks Dr. John.
I tell Alex, I asked for this, I’m getting what I want.
The present progressive, the unfinished spine, arriving to arrival for the sake of arriving.
A bed of soft brownie butter under us in the hard candy crystals of geologic time.
Emily sounds like cotton candy at the Huntington Gardens among the lemon lime philodendrons and the pines.
Active Ozymandias in the candy aisle Cassandra
of hot cocoa with the mini marshmallows Enheduanna
of marijuana gummies The only pedestrian in LA skirting
pedestrian colored clouds hiding atmospheric lakes The sun
is undefeated on Western on Fountain on Wiltern on Beverly on Highland on Sunset
on Pico ON PICO Cruising at the plant shop with pink
eye I tell Dr. John I’m doing things
again. The being seen thing.
I’m trying to be sweet. A repeating pattern of saccharides.
It was never physical.
We made out for three hours and then I made him leave my house
Dane says balletic svelteness Mato says big lavender energy Andy says sunrise tuxedo Morgan says crying on the picket line Alex says the sea is attracted to everyone Olivia says dracula walked that fucking duck When does sweetness go from enriching an experience to distracting from one It was never physical I tell Dr John nerds rope chocolate covered cookie dough bites sweet tarts starbursts the kinetic impacts in space the formation of organic life savers lord love a gummy strawberry frozen margarita salt rim boozy milkshake mcflurry Chantal
says neuroplasticity. Niqui says past lives.
Dane says cokebottlegummiescadburycrèmeeggsandsourwatermelonslices.
Andy says twix.
Bobby says reeces.
Mato says tropical mini swedish fish and sweet tart ropes.
Christine says hi-chews.
Olivia says M&Ms.
Tazbah says strawberry sour patch straws.
Alex says golden wrapped gummy bears Luke says hong-yuan classic series guava.
We made out in my house and then I made him leave—
I’m surveying the damage after a storm, I tell my audience
but there’s no after a storm. Just time in between.
At lunch he says we can go slow says he’s a safe harbor
says he’s not my ex But all I see are choppy seas and craggy pop rocks—
Breathe.
Tazbah says grand entry Niqui says juice cleanse Bobby
Says rare earth magnets Morgan says meds Morgan says
shift freedom Christine says severance My body is doing
donuts The pants are coming off and then the pants
are gone The Kelly Clarkson show is on Nothing makes
sense but everything makes perfect sense
like a Björk song
We made out for three hours and then I made him
leave my house It tasted like blood orange soda
from the Franprix and getting fingered on the river It
was never physical, I tell Dr. John. I’m just afraid
of checking my messages answering my
phone I’m afraid of getting home
but it was never physical I move to the other side of the country Do you think there are other people on other planets, says Jodie Foster’s kid version of Dr. Eleanor Arroway in 1997’s Contact as played by Jena Malone who I probably knew from Saved! Or Donnie Darko but wish I could say it was Bastard Out of Carolina HEY
he says
I can go if that’s what you want.
I say Song of India I say Sansevieria Starfish I say Sansevieria Midnight I say Sansevieria Moonshine I say Green Bean Peperomia I say Pearls & Jade I say various Monstera I say Alocasia I say – HEY
he says.
Alex says UFO plant Morgan says weird ass pileas Olivia
says peace lily Joe says monstera adansonii
Aliaa says falsa aralia Migizi says zz Sarah says a pot
of pothos Niqui says money tree Roy says bird
of paradise
He says help me with my prayer plant It’s got crispy edges Denne says tri-color syngonium white albo pink splash prince of orange global green gold dust croton wandering purple queen marble
He’s not your ex, says Dr. John. I’m not him, he says. If you feel it in your body, it is physical. I survey the storm. We’re on the slate grey sectional. Pure marzipan light beams from a tightly coiled mass of arms and legs and spread
intentions.
You gotta trim back the dead edges, I say. The plant can’t save them and shouldn’t try. By pruning, the plant can focus on new growth. Cloudy numbers drift across the wint-o-green sky.
I say can we do this
I ask, can we do this?
Karaoke Tuesdays. Natural wine. Wingtips and two-steps. Holding hands on the picket line. Fiber cookies. Hoya hearts. Farmers markets. Staying the night.
