Vaguely Poetic

family in the gathering space of grandpa's missionary baptist church. my mandolin and me hiding in the sanctuary - pick through “amazing grace” once to appease the local spirits, then continue. little riffs of nothings - end with the same spiritual - not trying to leave any ill will. later in the car I will listen to “weekend in Western Illinois” and feel nothing. which is about the best one can hope for. even weeks later - I am back across state lines to a place that should feel like home but looking for escape routes. why does it have to be in a church? someone says something about being the hands and feet and I freeze. even B who is usually so comforted by contemplative religion is deadened. we need to leave. almost hope we get a concerned email, rocking in the bathroom then fleeing to the frosted car when someone comes in to actually pee. the only difference between me and middle school me is I can drive myself home.

Will you tell me if I start talking like someone else? Will you notice if I'm no longer myself? Safety plans made this late would be better called damage control. Slash and burn fire prevention. I know I've been cold. Turning away from care and snapping at questions. Wish I could say it was one of the passengers, but most the time it's just me and B. It's not like either of us to be like this to you and we're sorry, I think. Just so tired in the way that turns everything off. As if closing our eyes to the light will let us sleep

Why do I write us with such violence? It’s always the street-lit knife, cigarette held to burn, flirting with death, with teeth bared. Surely there are times our kisses don’t go for the throat. Is the language of blood really the only way I can paint this flush?

They replaced the streetlight outside so I can’t see the cell tower anymore. I want to be distraught but the incandescent warmth from behind the blinds comforts in a way that’s pleasantly isolating. No longer longing for the far-away flash of the real world, enveloped in the glow of this situation, as artificial and isolating as it is. I know this is the wrong choice, I think. But it’s what I want right now. Can’t I too make stupid short sighted decisions? Make my present somewhere I want to be for once instead of a staging ground for the future?