Mar 27

is it the leaving

concept: the highway gurgles and the horizon looks like a city
that’s been flipped on its back and tattooed on someone’s empty hand. 
we roll down the car windows and let our hair fly out. 
the storm fills our heads and we
open and open our mouths, like dying fish, trying to get a taste of the

concept: we are becoming misplaced in our fabricated freedom.
i tell you how the street corner glows when the sun rises and you tell me
we are too stubborn to forget the dark in our eyes.
the asphalt stretches, the light grows nearer.
both threaten to swallow you too soon.
i ask, is it me or the leaving that makes you hurt?
you pull clouds over your eyes and look the other way. 
later, i find a torn notebook by your bed. 
me, it says. me
I wonder how much sleep you got last night, 
how many years it took for you to spit that up. 

concept: the sky has never been your home.
and you’ve never even looked up. truth is a word you refuse to

inspired by Alison Malee's poem is it the growing up