LEAVING LA {hungover morning in LA-yearning to leave but also appreciating the stillness out there} Los Angeles last night i liked how my bed smelled like cigarette smoke a gold sunrise shadow hugs the crevice in the corner of my room it’s 6 am i dissolve into these sheets that smell of this cigarette i smoked alone as the moon peeked through the side of these bent plastic blinds i find myself despondent pushing and pulling in and out of this smokey sheets in a stagnant hour crawl further beneath this bedding my eyes bag as i curl beneath this old cotton blanket familiar companionship with my confusing anxiety i think about how inside my human shell is a world that lies so untouchable too distant even for me-it lies there deserted juice from the orange i peel spills in between my bare thighs staining these cheap ivory linen sheets blank scuffed walls circle the surroundings of my bedroom a first time being one of these four million people a second interview for a job i never got A third dent on my Subaru Outback-a car that I hoped to drive deep into this desert ground Los Angeles was fucking hard. i try and remind myself as i romanticize this twisted city THE MOVE {inside a train car from colorado to utah on the way to CA to get the rest of my things and move back to the east coast} Helper, Utah 8.24.23 somewhere in utah 9:14 pm twang of a guitar echoes this dimly lit train car at a stop. lights twinkling as they outline the rectangles of buildings in helper, utah i like the loneliness in a train car with no one i know crave these moments i don’t know will exist miss the west far too much. miss the light that peaks through my grandma’s windows in the hot desert sun miss the softness of this quilt blanket she ordered off a magazine miss her brown eyes as they squint when she smiles grandma’s white hair matches the starkness of the clouds in a colorado sky New York Fort Greene Park 7.15.23 fort greene park people in the park like puppets being picked up it’s 6:25 watch as they scan the sea of green wonder what they’ll eat for dinner tonight think about this smooshed dead bugs in between the pages do I even like reading poetry my mother hasn’t called i lay on my stomach pressing so hard into the earth in fort greene hoping this cheap towel swallows me up
