I put my hand out the window
as the car went around the corner
always, always, laughing now,
you opened your palm into the wind
and I thought
“where have you been?”

where have I been?

and I let my hair whip my face for once
and I let myself love you again

my hands

Look at these hands
as I roll down the car window,
one more time
—-as I hold a cigarette
“how did this get here,
I hate the taste”
as I cover my eyes,
red as pain,
looking at my hands,
as they approach my mouth,
halfway to forgetting.

thank you

my thank yous have become tired
but you still accept them with a “you’re welcome”
and I still persist in handing them out.
I say thank you
and have forgotten how to say it
when I really mean it.
we still pretend that it means something
but it means nothing.
I’ve forgotten how to mean a lot of things,
like laughs and frowns.
I laugh,
but I know that I’m not happy.
I say thank you,
but I know that I’m not thankful.

night out

How long have I been staring at this candle?
No one has spoken to me for five
and I’ve been playing with my fingers,
Someone talk to me. ———- (please).
They move around;
—-so many people to see
(funny how they all have time for everyone,
—-everyone, that is, except for me)
and I look up to the light on the ceiling.
Is it the brightness that’s making me cry?