Writing

There's a grapefruit spindrift on the kitchen island where I’m sitting. The digital clock at the top of my Mac Book Air screen reads 9:16 p.m.

An apple is

A reminder

A token to bring you back

To the day in the orchard

When you were six years old

Sitting on your dad's shoulders

Reaching for an apple

That you had decided was perfect

i'll use your name. sweet nothings spill

from well-meaning mouths & shatter on concrete radiating summer sun

right back at you, perfect -- dainty -- shiny with dewdrops. they told me

时间

Time moves fast

Tick… tick… tick…

It all goes

Gone

           Gone

                       Gone

Minutes go by

Don’t kill my birds.

Tommy pays taxes.

April runs a side hustle selling cursed bath bombs on Etsy.

They have dreams.

They have a 401k.

They just bought a tiny house in a haunted forest

I put on a sweatshirt,

Put on some pants,

Summer is coming,

And I don’t stand a chance.

I go downstairs knowing,