playlist

voice

written

There is at least one boy who prayed that his wedding would be a misunderstanding interrupted by an obsession but instead found every moment with her as constant and unbelievable as river stones and sea glass polished slowly by knowing and needing.

There is at least one man who stares at the cornflower mountains overlapping infinite and whistling, with palms on the head of a dog in his lap, the coffee sharp and campfire breathing calmly deeply around the red knuckled blind fire in his chest.

There are at least two people falling in love through prison breezeblocks, describing their favorite meals with empty stomachs, and talking about the beauty of adolescent summers or the color of their eyes, but then, suddenly, they die together with great clarity, as the times they should have and could have but didn’t, die with them.

There is at least one woman architecting the elimination of a million people she has never kissed and it luckily guts her how easily those numbers change and remind her of dancing in the coral reef waves she daydreamed into the Polaroids of her mother.

There is at least one girl who desires a fatal car accident that would erase her and as she lays on the asphalt, the paramedics begin a synchronized Broadway hit, cradling her neck, lifting and spinning in harmony, crooning closely in her ear, “It’s over now, honey, you can stop waiting for that unrequited kind of love. Never again will you feel like being nice is better than being alone.”