
ALT No Rush There’s a man down the block screaming I LOVE YOU CAN YOU HEAR ME I LOVE YOU. It’s a great twilight for confessing: air heavy as hands on shoulders, clouds dark as a lover’s sleeping head on a spill of white sheets. Sometimes I imagine you in your death the way I imagine my old New York roommates shopping at grocery stores in other states. You add rutabagas to your cart as if you have nothing to lose. You rip open a bag of Life Savers as you wait in the check out line, popping one in your mouth before you pay because who cares? You only have this one death. The flavor you pick is FIRST THANKSGIVING AWAY FROM HOME and the sweet of cabernet and tryptophan and char prickles your tongue like the salt in tears. Last night I dreamed grief was an unlit room that I had to clean. Just as I figured out how to navigate its darkness I put something away and had to learn all over. You were there. You were saying why bother when the room was only going to to get messy again... (continued)

































