peanut butter toast and american bandstand.

it was 100 degrees at work today.

a customer threw a pen at my chest and then i watched in calculated silence as he forgot his faux black leather fannypack next to the register. i planned on throwing it down the street at it him - the open zippers flailing and sizzling in the heat waves - but no. i hid it instead.

i am addicted to the new low boxset. they cover a journey song for christsakes.

growing out of the bubble.

the outlet burst out in a frying egg clatter –
black cotton ball puffs of smoke.
I had been picking an
eyelash out of the binding of my book –
now slapped down on my knee.
the eyelash wafted itself loose +
criss-crossed between my thighs.
I blinked + sat still.
who isn’t afraid of electrical shock?

Its like autumn and maybe it is
seattle seems seasonless –
consistent restraint against
sun cycles and axis
some drizzling.
shriveled leaves – curled into scrolls,
litter cement steps.

where I’m sitting,
red construction trucks grunt + roll over the tops
of gradient hills
I imaging the inclines as
blue, green, yellow
candyland up to broadway.

I trace my paychecks so feverishly you would think
I was giving birth to a large child.
I keep fending off dinner with fistfuls of stale cereal,
cracker crumbs, cashew nuts

I cleaned the bathroom today and nearly screamed
everytime the shampoo bottle would
slide + tumble into the tub.

haircut.

the femurs.