ok here’s the second poem i wrote to you on my calculator:
it’s getting colder! my hands are going numb,
the sky’s going gray, and it feels like i should be breathless, pressing pressing up against windows. spreading my drying fingers across radiators. squeezing myself into brand new skinny jeans.
this is what i want to be:
there’s a lot i’m just saving up
to take with me, when i start my proper life
like, cooking. i want to know how to cook my dad’s dishes
stir fried garlic broccoli and soy beans
brown eggs and dried tofu
bean curd sticks with green peppers.
there’s a lot here to salvage, i just have to wait.
i can survive like this