Tucson. Six dominoes onto the next hand. Maybe the first three were meant to purify. The fourth, in memoriam. Chicago. The fifth and the sixth then for practice. A chance at alienation. To get good at longing. Dallas. I cannot remember watching your face for this long. What is this? The ocean floor shifting against itself and resettling. An arm like a floating rope; and the water is so black I cannot see anything, but also, so warm. Newport. Shrouded in the opalescent afterbirth of seven.
We traveled 600 miles standing in place.
We stopped in a town hardly the length of one street.
A town that sounded something like Transient; the reflection of a man turning away before you could see his face; bone that grows on the outside; a surname already half forgotten. Dusty things.
The sun distended the black band of skyline, and I worried we are not so whole in a place like this. People kept looking through me. He talked more to himself than to me, across the table; I pushed around the cooked carrots on my plate.
The sun did not move from its perch, and I washed in the sink of a crumbling motel. For the first time in 48 days, I forget to read from my Bible.
when did we stop coloring?
I get you, Britney. How can anyone do anything worthwhile with all this HAIR