Writing

My boo, baby, and honey bunches of oats.

I’m very glad that you came up to me at the airport.

That you saw through my traveling stench, eyebags, and anger.

Sitting in the living room

Watching the evening news,

Which you made me do,

Because it's “stimulating”

I wait until you called out

“Dinner!”

Lying on plush couches,

Scrolling mindlessly on TikTok,

Then David Muir says something.

“The Supreme Court is destroying democracy.”

What a weird little world,
you sit there and ponder,
with its silly little merits,
leaping out
as you wander.
Squirrels of gray and brown,
birds of bright red,
flurries of color
wait just overhead.

Most people find brown an odd colour to choose.  

It's loud. 

Ugly. 

In your face. 

This brown is the colour of shifting leaves as they float to the ground come October. 

I woke, startled by my phone buzzing beside me, as the only sound in the room. Through bleary eyes, I stared at the screen, trying to understand what I saw. I read the time in the top corner: 3 AM! Who on earth was texting me now?