skin maybe

in the dream
i was arriving in new york
emerged from the train station onto a street
i somehow recognized and before
consulting maps, i see who i think is tuesday
sitting at a bar at a cafe
and upon advancing, the suspicion is confirmed
i want to plop down next to her
so that when she swivels around and sees me
she’s all NO WAY!!!!!! FRANNIE!!!!!!
(last time we pathcrossed in waking life
was around eight years ago)
but she and her pals get up to leave
before i make it to the seat so instead
i hayyyyyy her from the sidewalk as we pass each other and she
not out of rudeness or icyness but out of
pure truth says
i’m sorry, do i know you
and then i remember i have these huge sunglasses on
but even when i take them off
i have to explain who i am
(in waking life, we dated for three years)
to which she responds with an apology and says
ever since the bike crash
i’ve had a hard time with my memory
first sight upon waking:
cockroach crawling
along the line where wall meets ceiling
how is their sky so blue?
i want to know about that
izzy writes about rome and italy
bethany, (i know her name because
it was what was called out when she rose
from the waiting room)
in a near-neon super-saturated yellow
mennonite dress,
the sheer intensity of the color itself somehow
rendering the standard mennonite dress
to be not a mennonite dress at all
the gigantic plate of chocolate chip cookies
at one of the smallest potlucks ever
with no kids besides dennis who is just a year which means
there are still cookies for their maker (jen)
to take home
the tub of deer parts
legs, skin maybe,
on the karma kitchen floor and the countertop
coated in salt
this is my sunset walk arrangement i say
about the wildflower bouquet
(grasses, purple clover flowers,
something that looks fennely and then
a bright purplepink (and tiny) flower
whose name i don’t know)
arranged in the quart mason jar
on the butcher block


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