People who liked this also liked
Quit it with wanting to ride your bike across the country.
Kansas would make you sick. You’d call me from a field,
sprawled on your back in sharp straw, closing your eyes to the sun
and tell me how lonely it is to be exactly the person you thought
you wanted to be.
You’d get tired. And consumed by mosquitos, and sleeping
in cemeteries, using the garden spigots to rinse your face,
it wouldn’t even be ironic that it’s for watering flowers at graves
because I’d be at work and wouldn’t pick up the phone anyway.
Nothing is important when you have no one to call.
By Utah you would have realized how easy it is to be un-fun.
You thought you wanted to run really far really fast
but you are a person of incredibly average athleticism,
(I love that about you, I do)
you could have tired yourself out on the back roads of your hometown
in an old pair of joggers from high school.
The police will have stopped you on the busy freeway
Checking to make sure you weren’t deranged,
You’re pretty enough to be unpredictable and they ask
if you need a lift back to Massachusetts.
And you won’t find love.
That’s what it’s really about.
I’m telling you - you won’t find it. Not at a rest stop
or a café, or a mom and pop grocery store, or the lobby of a hotel.
I am telling you because I am so afraid that you will.
I am so afraid that love is forever finding you.
By California your tires will be flat and your toothbrush missing,
so come home already,
I am so afraid that you will keep riding into the Pacific
once you run out of road.
So come home before you ever really go,
I can be as plain and vast as an entire country and we’ll
never have to leave this bed.
Poem of the Week
who have experienced
on a large
i tell raif
i think my
might be dead
haven't seen her
& her car hasn't moved
for two weeks.
you would smell it
passing me a plate
of triangular shaped bread
slathered in jam.
Story of the Week
DARLEEN SQUEELED into the empty spot as soon as the gleaming white Mercedes pulled out. "We got lucky," she told Montana. "Even on a Monday night, this lot is killer."
Montana rolled her big blue eyes. "Whatever."
The eleven year old had better things to do, like text her friends. Incessantly, as if she had a tic. The kid hadn't wanted to shop tonight, but Darleen insisted. This was their first Christmas without Paulie and the girls needed to stick together. Darleen's ex had been nasty lately and mediation had hit a cement wall. Montana wasn't aware how dangerously close they were to losing access to Paulie's vast and unreported wealth.
Montana sighed dramatically as she yanked open the door of the Porsche Cayenne and tumbled out. She didn't pause in her texting.
Darlene checked her face in the rearview mirror. The most recent fat transfer had been wildly successful. She loved her new lips. Grabbing her Gucci bag, she hopped out of the front seat.
Her daughter trailed her into the mall, thumbs flashing on her phone keypad.