We Are All Just A Collection Of Cords

A sample of We Are All Just A Collection Of Cords

Indian summer — page 5

This fall has been a series
of false starts.

I pack my window AC unit away
just to drag it out in the middle of the sticky night
when I can’t stand the heat.

I take your name out of my phone
and add it in again
when I decide I don’t want to give up on us
after all.

I breathe a sigh of relief
every time I fix a problem and say,
"wow, I am glad that is finished."
As if problems are solved once and then leave you
forever.
As if they don’t continue to come around.

Maybe it’s a sign that this summer heat won’t go away.
Maybe it is stubborn just like my need to pack up
too soon.

I wish the Farmer’s Almanac would tell me what
this means.

Space is dumb — page 10

I am not asking for much. I just want an entire galaxy to be created so that it can exist between us.

When I realized I probably loved you — page 15

I related viscerally to a dish of ice cream
in the ecstasy of a summer afternoon.

Without warning it finds itself in a wet pool, not
remembering how or why.

Once you could have broken a spoon trying to get
me out.

Now I am so soft that I am begging
to be scooped up.

Don’t @ me — page 34

There could be a place for us. We could make a place for us.