Deciduous

i miss ángela and how she used to take the tabs off beer cans 

and wear them on her hoop earrings.

i miss waxing philosophy in the coffee shop 

for hours over a ginger tea and a hash joint,

not worried about how cool or 

likeable i was because 

every day i would wake up,

walk out the door and keep going

and if i hit a wall, i would turn left. 

 

one day i'll have to write a letter to the boyfriend

i used to pick fights with in the bar because 

he was just too nice to me –

not feeling good enough bleeds into life

that penny-like acid of missed things

and i used to think that tying a knot

in a cherry stem with my tongue 

was my only party trick.

 

there is no “one”, the universe spits out what you need

and it is just moments searing together like 

a fried fish.

i may no longer be at ease but 

the deciduous beliefs i used to hold

are gone;

i used to think i would never dye my hair 

but now i hate seeing the light brown grow in

and the other day i snaked my hand under my pillow

and thought i felt 

my milk teeth.