i never went to your house but i saw it, and i remembered.
you, texting me after my sister drove off: you could have come
in with me. but i don’t know what would have happened then,
and i am and was terrified of you.
last summer was nightmare fuel, because [ ] left, the night before
i had to play graduation with you and the rest of the orchestra and
band kids who weren’t graduating yet. me, shaking in my seat, and your
hand on my knee. violet, what’s wrong, what’s wrong? even though
i had called you sobbing the night before. even then, in my daze, i
was bothered by your (feigned?) ignorance.
this summer is a hazy daydream, and it’s hardly even started. my girl
and i are coming up on one year, and you’re long gone from my life.
i keep wanting to text you, but i know that it would go horribly. i know
that to text you would not be good for my brain.
possibilities abound, even though i still don’t drive. intimate acoustic show
tomorrow and i think i might cry. my dad listening quietly to the artist in question
on his car’s bluetooth stereo. graduation dinner and a gallon of grocery store
lemonade. my dad’s toast, tiptoeing around the bad parts of senior year for me
and my sister both. i remember when y’all were this big… the shame and fear
when i thought he was going to mention the ways in which i
want to change my body. the utter relief when he
didn’t breathe a word of that.