death of a weekend

I get an eerie sensation on a sunday night  standing on the precipice of the death of a weekend. I get the kind of rattled only a vanilla shake in an American diner can quell, listening to Elvis on the jukebox with friends, in a booth upholstered in automotive leather, flirting and killing off time.

Advertisements

honestly does

We had our best moments when nothing was going on: laughing at our inside jokes, playing silly meaningless games, being kids with one another, walking to the corner store, talking to strangers…being with desire. I am at peace to have a single one who knows my heart. For now, life cannot hurt so bad as it honestly does. I wanna help you. You make it all make sense.

impress.ion

A stamped imprint is an impression you have on the world. Once the ink dries, the thing upon which you (the idea of you) have been fastened, takes flight into the crosscurrents of daily life. These energy fields we run in are countless! Everything changes. You can become something else in an instant! Years later we will all understand. Only then may they know, by what became of your impression, what they missed.

tamales in little saigon

We got tamales in little saigon on a sunday morning. We were arguing over petty nonsense in the car. I admit I get a little restless in love, for the¬† idea that some day the one I love I may not hold any longer, i may not have any longer, disturbs me so…my heart recedes into a protective place under a sleeve, like the tamale wrapped in skin and folded in plastic.

poor memory

projection of poor memory

You taught me how to survive. I taught you how to thrive. The tables before were turned, and I experienced a deep despair like the world no longer could care…even someone who feels forgotten will be remembered by someone they may have overlooked. I wonder if the feeling of forgotten is a projection of poor memory? How then to enrichen and coax the narratives into a kinder recollection?