34 /365: stardust on the hood of your car
“Name the one moment that you knew, for whatever reason, you were going to be okay. Whatever happened to you, you just knew that you nothing could touch you.”
“That isn’t easy. I have to think about that.”
“It’s not supposed to be easy. You picked this game, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. Serves me right… okay. I think I’ve got it. Do you remember that time we went stargazing in Norfolk?”
“Well, that’s it. That’s the moment that I remember feeling untouchable.”
“What do you mean? How can you say that? We were two undetectable blips in the middle of space observing giant balls of gas trillions of times our size. Nothing should make you feel more temporary—changeable.”
30 /365 Reflections on being 21
I realize that I’m still about 30 years shy of an acceptable age
to impart wisdom on people and make them feel like they have to accept it,
but damn it, the kids need to know that turning 21 doesn’t give them superpowers.
And it’s kind of a pain to wait for your new license to come in the mail.
And by the time you have your first drink, there are six eyes watching you.
And you get dizzy because you drank it in ten minutes.
And people still ask you to move one seat over at the movies.
And you feel old because those dark circles are really coming in now.
And, greater than the urge to drink or go to a club or rent a car,
you’ll want to read Harry Potter, watch your favorite movies, and hug your mom
because you made it this far.
28 /365, Lo que pasará
It will be eleven months later.
Quicker than a shot, she will be in the next room.
You will be taking off your shoes when you hear her.
You will not hesitate for a fleeting second,
Nor will you entertain thoughts of reconciliation.
You will wish she were anywhere but in the next room.
Argentina would be best. Egypt. Anywhere the very form of her would evaporate into dust.
But she will still be in the next room. Laughing.
And you will wish on anything, on everything,
that things were the same.
27 /365, Moms never stop worrying
A continuation of my 365 project with Ashton. Today’s assignment (yesterday’s, really) was to write a short story that included the words, ‘laptop,’ ‘crumpled paper,’ ‘college student,’ and ‘train.’
“No, mom. I’m fine. I’m whispering because Joey’s asleep in the other room.” Just then, without trying, Anna realized how late it was. She was still on California time.
“Seriously! Everything is wonderful! We moved into the new place, and it’s more spacious than we imagined. Yep, right in the middle of everything, too. I don’t even have to pay cab fare to get to work.” Anna heard Joey turn over on the air mattress and cough. She wasn’t sure if he was awake or not, but she figured it was time to get off the phone either way.
“Yeah. I’ll definitely miss California. But this is what we needed, so… No, don’t bother dad. It’s not like I’ve got that much news, anyway. Hey, listen––Can I call you tomorrow? It’s already 2 a.m. here, and I think that I’m gonna hit the sack, too… okay… love you, too… bye, mom.”
Anna listened to the dial tone for a few seconds, removed the receiver from her ear, and placed the phone back on the wall. So weird… she thought. What Manhattan apartment comes with a cordless phone?
Bewildered from the darkness and upset about being out of driving distance from her parents, Anna tried to reassure herself, but a little voice kept nagging her.
Damn it. We didn’t even think to get wine. Anna didn’t like taking pills for her anxiety, but since she was high and dry in the big apple, she figured she’d make an exception. She shuffled into the kitchen and reached into her bag where her pills were… somewhere.
26 /365 (or boys i fell in love with momentarily pt. 6)
Joey. He’s got a glint of Ireland in his eyes.
And yeah, maybe I’ve only talked to him once.
And maybe it was about a burrito.
And so what if the only place I ever see him now is Chipotle, anyway?
Like nobody’s ever read Synge or O’Casey or Yeats over pinto beans and rice.
25 /365 with Ashton
This is a book spine I would recognize anywhere. Even in an over-crowded bookstore, eight years after I picked it up. This book gave me reassurance and helped me accept who I was and am today. I can’t say enough good things about it. If you ever want to borrow an adorable story about ordinary, high school romance, let me know. Okay?
P.S. It’s about 1000x better than the “Rainbow” series. Knocks it clear out of the water.
P.S.S. Yes, that’s a modernized version of Jane Eyre next door. I read the back cover. She falls in love with a “rock star.” I bet it’s brimming with stolen glances and barely repressible sexual urges.
16 /365: Rain Cloud Boy
I used to call you ‘rain cloud boy’
the way you carried your disasters in your earbuds,
with a cigarette lit, hood up, expressionless.
Not much has changed but the seasons.
I still catch myself apologizing for offering you my umbrella
like a piece of my heart.
EDIT: You should have asked me.