city’s curse

when i tell my friend about you
i look in the distance
to my left

(over my heart)

because the memory
of intimacy is overwhelming
i can’t hold it in space
let alone in this reality
at this diner playing with the
ring on my finger
he knows the words
and i give him the astrology

i think of you every september without fail
that’s when i’d be in the city usually and
the band you got me into is still
gluing together my autumn soundtrack
functioning public transit
and strip malls
with clean parking lots
movie theatres
for us to settle into
your head on my shoulder
your hand in mine
the kind of Queerness
we couldn’t have growing up

your hands were small
but i have my dad’s thick bones
when we’d try to interlock
fingers
we’d cringe
take each other’s palms
the movie would go on
i thought we were lovely
and i was most of the time

romanticizing
wondering
if you’d like to kiss

i tried to impress your mom but
your sister side-eyed me
on the drive to the mall
i ground my teeth so bad
they could’ve fallen out
my relief when they played music
and you started singing

the windows rolled down
cuz your mom smoked cigarettes
and i lit one myself
the only thing we had in common

when i tell him about you
i say i see you in the
sagittarian we love
how she sings
and gestures
and speaks
so similarly
with intelligence and grace

she knows the answer to everything

and i see her
i remember you –

i’m not afraid to call it love
what else would you call five years

of claiming soulmates
all of this time gone and i
still don’t know if
the Young Voice in my head
perpetuates or curses us

i’m back again
storytelling like i do
trying to make sense of it
knowing it’s just one of those things
i’ll never put to bed
i’ll never sleep with it

thank god,
thank god i go home
to the dream of the north
where i can safely face myself again
away from the glaring places we’ve been