i was stretching my wrist out
twirling the cat on the sushi roll
round and round and round
a random day off. the work
was slowly killing me one screen
at a time. you told me when
you closed your eyes and listened
to me typing you thought of all the
crazy shit must be going through
my mind #katyamills
the head told you
you were crazy the heart
called it out on a lie born
to live not born to die
#katyamills
She met a guy on the streets of San Francisco, she was looking to score and she would, like usual and it was two thousand eight maybe, a distant cry from straight, well she met a guy randomly and they went back to his place to fix, and they made it all night in his place, in front of his roommate who was twice their age and they were pretty young, and the dealer was just down the hall, one of a thousand boarding houses in the city, and it was all just a knock on a door away, the instant sorta gratification and the excitement of strangers meeting in the night, and taking a dare, scoring and fixing and fucking and all that sorta nonsense kids in their thirties engage in, and he knew nothing of her past and she knew nothing of his, and they didn’t fucking care! The old man thanking her for letting him watch and stare, wow, what the fuck came into vocabulary that night and then the dawn, and they had made it like all night, she thought there was some music maybe but who could remember? When two became one and then smiling when she come and then and there she goes, walking on down the street, picks up the car after a wakeup and a spike, drives a couple blocks back and puts on the hazards in the excitement of the high and the rain, and the flashing yellows and here he comes again, running out the door and get inside! and they drive to safeway for some odwalla and iced coffee and maybe something to eat, and there’s an easy connection in the lot, thanks a lot, thanks a lot, and they are smiling and back for some more? until noon when it’s all over, but gimme your number, she says, and he is thrilled to put the shred of paper in her hand, cause he knows she’s gonna call, a week later, and do it all over again. She drives away laughing and trying to fix her hair but it’s so obvious, hell, it’s so obvious so let it go and that’s wild.
no matter what kinda life i might have, no matter what hopes or dreams, i find reassurance on a sunday, now and here, laid out on the couch looking up, the stillness and quiet coming over me slowly with the rushing of air
and i realize, in the atmospheric space left by the panic and fear, forty years into what a madness as is, i may never be more blessed than here, than now, for this moment finds true peace in my heart
might sound crazy but i was holdin on to a memory. of you and me. before all those things happened. ya.
might sound crazy but it was the first week we were together. we were in the old Impala with the flat tan finish. ya. we were gettin high.
you had a baseball cap on backwards like that tomboy from the bad news bears. the original. skinny acidwash jeans and long hair like axl rose circa 1987. Indiana.
i was all my tore up old self. like usual. a taller and possibly skinnier you. bad hair day. like always. no bra. ya. walgreens wool cap spinning around my middle finger.
there we were clear as day in my mind just now. scratchin’ bingo with my switchblade. gettin’ high. wow. must have been twenty ten. just look at us then.
i know it sounds crazy but even with the madness what with the sadness that followed and haunted us so…
god i must be crazy but i long to be back there again with you now. the way the love full of light filled our eyes. the way that you touched me and gave me the chills.
the weight of the eighty impala beneath us. reading our poems aloud and again. feeling the fortune of finding a friend.
oh why?
oh why
did it all
have to
end?
katya mills © 2014
this is dedicated to k&k
You are the one
the only
number 8
divisible by two
the lens we see through
two fours fit inside
off your curves
kids can slide
infinity
on your side
seven plus one
ten minus two
nothing dangerous
about you
what i like best
is skating you, 8
on frozen ponds
in winter
what i like most
is figuring 8
around and around
and around
two zeros entwined
you may not add up
4 a stop and go world
you are poorly designed
cream puff of numbers
the cutthroats don’t suit you
no wonder you come back on
yourself
called crazy
made fun of
you always look
in the mirror
the same
i hope people see
number 8 just like me
and not just another number
there’s a little 8
in all of us
so remember
you are not just another
number
K IS SILENT 