felt tips with splayed out ends
deer eggs at the end of the garden
i wasn't sure how many days were left
and i liked it that way
starsick and sprinting from a black hole
we would stumble around and feign
unconsciousness
then laugh for hours
once we had a baby
we forgot about her soon, but it was nice
it was warm
to feel like i wasn't the runt anymore
those grubby notebooks
filled with scribbles in a language no one else knew
are relics now
they belong to the earth, to the tarmac
in the parking lot in front of macdonald's
