thoughts from Costa

thoughts from Costa

sometimes i look out the window and realize how far away i am. time is a farce but distance is real and i wonder if home is still home or a harbor for change so i’ll, eventually, return to a memory of a ghost of what old stomping grounds felt like beneath my feet.          ...

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Erasing

Erasing

they said i am a joy. they see me through eyes unknowing and brand new- i am competent, and capable. i used to watch Home Improvement with my father. he said it was funny, so it was. i thought what he thought. i was adorable on demand. i was lots of things on demand for lots of people. i took requests. i watched the fire burn, watched them drive away, watched her die, watched them (the collective him) hurt me all from outside myself. scapegoat, whipping post, ball of rage, on demand. all or nothing. i was failed perfection, clean house and dirty hair, obsessively wiping down the kitchen counters freeing them of the condensation rings from the tiny glasses between every shot. erasing. alcoholic housewife on demand. it took me years to realize i don’t...

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Edges

Edges

It is not a shiny thing, a room full of coffee cups and the shakes and the voices of people telling all the same story just wrapped up a little different. it isn’t easy. they come in and out and you pray to the higher power you created or discovered or whatever to please, please don’t let that be you just for one more day. just today. you white-knuckle that shit at first, though. you’re the one in and out, the one who makes the people with more than a few days remember. really remember how it felt to not know how to feel. and the ones with the time, they thank god it’s not them, and they do what they can, and they hope that you get it before you die. these people, these people with time [that you think must be lying, cause who can go years...

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Existential Global Positioning

Existential Global Positioning

I smell like the store I bought this shirt from. It reeks of Instant gratification. I want a cigarette But my coffee cup is empty And anyway It’s cold out there. I stare at the people outside And pretend their nicotine Is for me. I found the historic part of this town: My GPS directed me, Via satellite, Back in time. Original flooring Holds up the humans In plaid flannel shirts, [Me included,] And original brickwork And fairy lights And stone steps And tattoos. I am obsessed by time And juxtaposition And where I fit. Cities are too big, Skies void of stars, And one horse towns Far too small. I am The wrong size For both. My ideas Are too large for my brain And too ahead Of my current location. I can cross A hundred time zones In buses, planes, and cars, But...

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Six

Six

It makes it impossible to forget- That one day You have to address it. There is no positive spin. It’s making an effort- Wearing her dress And her emeralds And washing your hair In the middle of the week [Although you never do that.] It’s people who know Saying they’re thinking of you And facebook posts And memories And old photographs And maybe tiramisu. And probably tears. It’s the day The world ended But also Kept turning, Which is still baffling. The sun stayed put And the earth kept spinning But you can remember The day it stood still. But also it’s every day. It’s every day I see her picture, Wear her ring- Especially the days I never say her name. Melissa Is her name. Mommah. I miss you. It’s been six...

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