Pendurance Pals

She was a good sport

If not a little short with me but how was I supposed to know

Thought I was a good sport

Telling her I couldn’t even if I couldn’t tell her why

Not very sporting

Supposed to bare the soul bear the pain everything I can’t explain

Play the game, she says

No elaboration on the rules so how am I supposed to know

So I lose

Penalized for being too blind from her too dumb to myself

(From approximately a year ago) ~Allison

Grass Cuttings

You mow the lawn wrong

You need to go forward over a row

And then backwards over what you just mowed

Don’t you know?

Double the arbitrary work for the same payoff

Plus my approval

Her Husband

She can’t imagine being married to him

Can’t imagine being married in general but

To him?

No

Taking him home to meet the parents

For a basic dinner of not-pizza

Taking him to family Christmas

(But he’d be family)

Can’t imagine him telling stupid jokes to her cousin’s kids

Chasing after her cousins’ dogs

No

She can’t imagine marrying him

Standing up in front of the same cousins and cousin’s kids

Aunts, uncles, and all of his

To unabashedly declare emotion

Or can’t imagine sneaking off to a courthouse

Covertly signing papers

Stealing kisses

No

She can imagine

Can imagine sitting on the couch her back to his chest

While a movie plays on the screen

(But is that just a craving for closeness?)

Can imagine laying in bed with her legs crossing his

Talking

Just another day

With the pot on the verge of

Boiling over

but surface tension holds

I wish it wouldn’t

But I’m glad it does

It would pour out salted water

Dripping down

steaming off the burner

When I want straight evaporation

Fire

You’re like

Adequate

But

For how long

Sitting

Waiting

Hoping for good news

Paused

Poised

Thinking you can’t lose

Listen

Loosen

Living life you choose

Poorly but

Surely

The tap is on, water pouring out.

And I should reach out to turn it off.

It’s a waste.

It doesn’t need to be running.

What was I even doing in the first place?

I should reach out to turn it off but I can’t bring myself to lift my hand.

I lift my gaze.

Focus my eyes.

She’s looking at me—who is that?

dark figures

lurking in the periphery

foggy in the gloom but

on the outside of the glass

it can’t be wiped away

separated

in the air

Social call

At your door

With the wherewithal to stay outdoors

Step by step

Down the street

With a friend I haven’t seen in weeks

Missed your dog

Missed your face

But I’m glad it’s covered—keep away

Where to go?

Just not home

Wanting memories to fade

Faster against the darkening page

Flipping folios and

Swiping tea bags over leaves to artificially age

Begging ink to disintegrate so you don’t have to think

Cheap paper, mass produced, doesn’t feel like this

Doesn’t last like this

I guess the bookbinder cared

Begging to be misunderstood

But they understand you anyway

Woe is you

But someone’s felt this way before

Will feel this way again

You’re still special

Unknowable

Tapping patterns on the table

Feeling some regrets

Tense energy in fingertips

9 Though taking all the steps

8 Cross your eyes

7 Dot your Ts

6 When can this end I’m begging please

5 deep breaths in

4th stage of grief

Three minutes more

To go

One more time

(Once more unto the breach)

One

1

half-past beginning

yet no end in sight

untethered and cradled

betwixt day and night

a dying star

and a rising sun

relinquish your truth

there is not mere one

find yourself at a station

with no trains to catch

watch them coast in and out

as your fears detach

when you stand on a stoop

hand raised to the door

release your clenched grasp

on the self from before

as your feet cross the threshold

take a moment to see

how infinite the exquisite reflection

It’s interesting to see

How other people see me

Sculpted from the bits of me they know

I show

I count money weird

From my right hand to my left

slide & slap with my thumbs from the top of the pile

My pigtails are my legacy

my mask strings clinging to the rubberbands

“My favorite thing” he says

I make a quiet little scream just for me when I’m doing certain things with the potential

for no-stakes mistakes

& it’s noticed

& appreciated

“If there were a million of you I would take them all”

I exist in your mind?

Sock-clad feet pressing in

Impressed at the cushioned feel

Even through the fabric

A rug to be slept on

Too good to sweep under

Heavy beneath as you float up above

Like a cloud of candy floss

A cumulus

Six layers thick of support

How much did you spend on this pillow to walk on?

Wealth accumulated

Jesus H fucking Christ why do I cuss like a Christian

I guess it’s just a way I’m stuck in

A stuck-in way that’s better to keep than, say, hating gays

Or treating women like racks of men’s ribs

Holy Mary mother of a god I don’t believe in

How do you watch faithful followers

Who can’t seem to fathom that the H in your son’s non-name doesn’t stand for Hate

It doesn’t stand for anything but that’s beside the point

Oh god...

The phone chirped out silence, its screen flashing bright, to announce that he had tweeted.

Turning notifications on for his account had been a mistake, she knew, but it was one she regretted not at all (even as she regretted it every time he posted something). It was better to know than not to know. Better to be blindsided than anxiously checking every hour. Every minute. To see if he’d mentioned her.

He never tagged her, of course. He was always sly about it. But every other tweet was a reference, of course. To a time of their relationship. Or that fight about mail fraud three years ago. Or the one time they’d tried to have sex but started laughing too hard at the coincidence of people cheering about something unrelated outside.

Crystalline hopes out of reach in a sky

illuminated by suns just as far

Twinkle like stars and luxuries she can’t afford

The passing of time