i’ve seen three geysers erupt one in reykjavik, the backdrop a glacial terrain another in Yellowstone, that faithful one the third came from my mother’s gut
I buy strawberry shortcake popsicles. Ten of them, but they only last two nights. I think about how I could have been born during slavery. Or in 2050, when there’s no ozone. If I have an urge to cry, I don’t.
relieved not to be four-years-old again learning I am not the center everything constantly spiraling hourly coping with roller coaster emotions, up and down seesaw
