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中午 At 12:00 pm you walk into the tea store that lies just above the edges of your consciousness, embalm your tongue with the scent of green tea and honey.

It's late when I pull into this town. the square is lively as my car sputters stop feet away from vision.

its a party. the people of the town running around and around and around, with carrots potatoes tomatoes everything the town has

and they're all breathless 

telling me of the doctors who defied odds and 

the athletes who destroyed records and 

the CEOs and chefs and 

and what if, 

yes I think they're cool and 

Hair tucked behind ears,

Cheeks pink and glowing,

Smiles illuminated by the sun,

Weeping willow branches cascading like poetry

Onto fluttered-closed eyelashes;

There’s a girl in my grade who cut herself last week.

does anybody else get that feeling deep in their chest, sharp like it's begging to come out but also soft as in fire soft, embers in a hole in the ground?