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.