living at Five-Forty now,
but when I dole out the queso
into my mother’s new porcelain bowl
I recall that moment, half a year ago
arguing in circles, he always did
the toaster oven ringing, the queso ready
but my appetite is vanished
and he’s glaring at me from across the room
so I’ll scrape the dish clean
so I’ll throw away our food
retreating into the darkness of the bedroom
imagining what it would be like to leave
.
we’re going out tomorrow
and I want to wear a dress
if only to memorize your reaction
I’ve never shown you so much skin
but I’ve wanted to often
(just let that sink in)
if I told you our meetings remade this city
remade this city, erasing four months’ despair
from my mind, you’d know exactly what I mean
once a week, we are desensitizing
.
I’m living at Five-Forty now
just another thing he didn’t tell his mother
when she heard I’d left her baby boy
she used the phrase
we all thought you were perfect for him!
I appreciate how she included the entire family
in a single word, she had more to say than he
I tried, but no one wants to hear that side
she stopped signing her texts with heart emojis
and she asked, all worried, if I brought my fish—
as if I’d ever abandon the innocent
.
at Five-Forty, I surveyed the land
I counted all the tree frogs
and I told you exactly where to find them
when it rains, they climb from the tree holes
they stick to the siding, to the windows
it’s what I miss most, I said months ago
more than once, your expression conveyed what I couldn’t
why don’t you do what would make you happy?
how many times we had that conversation
at shift change, how many times I sighed
left the station, left you, to return home
a supposed life partner passed out
smelling sour, snoring
on the couch, the kitchen floor, the bedroom
but those tree frogs, how I waited for them then
weather prying the heavens wide open
sobbing in the shower, thundering outside
those windows were always empty
.
more than once, I’ve met you in that parking lot
but last night, a car door between us
how clear you seemed, how apparent
I wanted to say you’ve been in my dreams
and has anyone ever told you
they dreamt of meeting your mother
of getting along so well with your older sister
we keep talking, just the two of us, at a picnic table?
I wanted to say you’ve been in my dreams
and sometimes it’s sexy (you know what I mean)
maybe that’s why you appear so clean
an image my imagination could never perfect
all this I would have eventually said
(your eyes are so distracting, don’t hold me to it)
but the supervisor phoned me then
shipped me off to the countryside
maybe he noticed what you did the other day
from you, I haven’t learned how to walk away
.
if my buckets of water bother my father
he keeps it to himself, drinking coffee I made
still one of my favorite morning rituals
and if it bothers my mother,
how I carry gallons and gallons across the house
potential spills, potential upsets
she keeps it to herself, asking for a refill
I change the aquarium water on Mondays
but I do it today because you have me tomorrow
my little sister will ask where we’re going this time
saying that maybe you’ll finally let me pay for dinner
and she’ll ask after all the fishes by name
the baby mollies are getting bigger
Bacon’s fins are regrowing
and Muffin’s still pining after him
staring out the glass wall, hovering
in the bottom left corner, where they met
at the start of his quarantine, his recovery
all my fishes survived the journey to Five-Forty
in this, they clearly weren’t alone
.
later, I’ll take the puppy for a walk
and with our eyes trained on the ground
I’ll point out the budding plants under the leaves
green incisors poking through rich earth
soon, I’ll be leaving to work in the field
but I kinda like it out here, showing the beagle
each new lichen blooming on the maples
Just Thoughts 