Hallie

17

When sleep wouldn’t come
because my mind reeled
with Schrodinger
and next to me lay a body
whose lid I was afraid to lift
content to leave it
dead or alive

The kind of tent
you can feel every blade of grass through
and a layer of blanket
is followed by
a layer of stars
constellations are drawn
with clumsy hands
and soft snoring

We found joysticks
through smoky haze
and relived our childhood
while burning it away
at the end of rolled up
sentences

My bottle of discontinued
off-brand tears broke
and roofs and blankets
were all you could offer
and I can never thank you enough
because you couldn't give me tea parties
but folded in each others arms
we did the best we could

Our city lights are dimmer than many
but each footfall echoes a flash
and we illuminate town
with juvenile wisdom
and slouch in torn diner booths
afraid of nothing but tomorrow

Voices carried across ponds
holding in their melodies
reconstructed personhood
skipping clear toned stones
creating pavements of laughter
to cross the water
in imitation holiness
that is almost better than the real thing

As always, the first to awaken.
I never cease to be amazed
at how distant the morning seemed
but on bench swings
or breakfast tables
or cross-legged on straight backed chairs
I relive every night with memory
just foggy enough for love
and just clear enough for regret