Colleen in her Harrisburg apartment rearranging things

Colleen in her Harrisburg apartment rearranging things. She said he never

signed the lease. She said she was depressed for a while. All those wide

alleys. She knew when I was hungry. The Nutella-covered toast

meandering into my mouth. Her numb hands bumping against my chin.

I say something and she throws her head back to laugh. I say something

and she rolls her eyes. I say men really ain’t about shit and eat

another pretzel. She is waiting in the doorway for me to pick my hair.

She’s talking about rocks again. She has to take her heart medication.

She doesn’t wear her AFO’s. She has given up on love. Her crescent ankles

blushing against her footrest. I woke up when she fell off the couch. She

wouldn’t let me help her so I went back to sleep. Colleen in her Harrisburg

apartment rearranging things. Love springing from her mason jars.