My cheeks are hot again
anger swirling and building
like the involuntary path
I take to the top of a pile of rocks.
The view of jagged tree limbs and
a pond in need of rain and
wheatgrass and palms and pine needles
aren't satisfying enough to pull me
from the empty cans of hard cider
no doubt from a restless group of teens.
Rejection sensitivity dysmorphia
she says with perfect enunciation.
The latch on my gate
is repeatedly fumbled with
by the same person
and I want to tell her
You're a fool.
Pay attention
to life
to me
to anything.
In the bookstore I buy
Mrs. Dalloway.
In the pet shop I buy
oat shampoo for Gigi
and these dental bones called
Whimsies.
I make eye contact with the cashier
who is all of twenty
her dark shiny hair cascades in two
long pigtails and she looks wary of me
until I say, "My dog is obsessed
and we've been out
for too long."
and she says, "Oh my gosh,
my hamster loves them, too."
why do we grin at each other?
so warmly?
and why does it make me feel so good?
Thoughts?