I Burned All My Bitches

It’s fitting that I left on the halfway mark.

My eyes need to stay far from the page.                                               

My eyes need to stay away. 

I need distance. 

I need to stay away and drive a long time.

 I’m wearing tennis shoes. 

My white t-shirt has a coffee stain under the collar.

Stand up straight, sit up straight.

I could never measure up so I quit trying.

At some point I outgrew him.  

I got taller than him.

I’m at his table, glad he isn’t here to remind me about it.

I have a cup of coffee cut with hot water

and a bowl of coconut ginger curry that Don made. 

It’s the only thing I’ve eaten for days. 

I hold back tears at this thought

 and that one too. 

Am I doing it again?

I know it’s a pattern.

I need a change so I find it. 

I find a change then I want it. 

I need to figure more into my own equations and pay attention 

to what I’m equaling.

As if I have anything to say about it. 

My dad never heard me, my voice

or my point of view,

unless it lined up with his. 

I never could harmonize to his military. 

My lock step has no key. 

It’s just crickets. 

I’m not even hearing them.

I saw one jump away like the frog I spooked at the door of my ex’s house

before I left. 

There are crickets here on the concrete scurrying under the chair. 

There are birds in the trees. 

The outside light just came on.

I’m on the fence about it.                                            

Before I judge it too harshly I admire the shadow I see 

out the corner of my left eye.

I’m a house guest. 

I’m a house guest again. 

I’m a house guest with needs.

I’m needy. 

It’s hot.

I’m sweating. 

I’m hot flashing.

This backyard needs work.

The light outs me in a way I am uncomfortable with.

Unconvertable. 

I can’t afford this. 

I’m unaffordable. 

Or is something else making things so expensive? 

I need to look up recodify. 

I want to re-odd-ify myself.

I’d like Ducky to come out of the woodwork and be my friend. 

I burned all my bitches.

The idea of neighbors bothers me more with the lights on.

I need to get the laundry out of the dryer. 

The fridge opened hot. 

The smell is too late to save.

“I didn’t think,” he said, “it was worth fixing.”

The trash can is full of unfrozen food.

I thought I’d have time to make waffles. 

The crickets like my shadow. 

I watch one sneak through my dark spot to get to the crack in the concrete. 

I’m by the pool.

I can only digest tiny bits of now.

I get caught up in the thoughts that come up after words. 

Afterwards.

I still need to get here. 

Part of me is always on the road. 

What are you looking for?