Parada

Lake Ellen
surrounded by
a wreckage of ivy.
A man dances at a bus stop,
the traffic light sways in the wind.

A woman lifts her sunglasses
to wipe away tears or sweat.
I don’t know why I kept coming back.

Your heartbeat under my ear,
steady, beautiful.
Your arms frame me,
protective and kind
as you read Tate.

“You know a smoothie is good
when you say mmm after each sip.”

The scratch of a chair,
dirt pressed into the restless
backs of my thighs.

Eyes wander over a jawline,
those bored eyes.

The world is sicker than me.
I can’t smooth its flaws
with the flat end of my tongue.

The world is sicker than me,
and I can’t keep it still.

(Daily Writing 093)