You know when you hold grudges on people, that's something you have to carry around. It actually it's your own baggage. It's like every time you make a grudge on someone and you decide not to forgive them, you have to carry that for the rest of your life.
Triptych for a Tuesday
I.
The circle tightens. Someone says alignment
and the word hangs there like a compass needle
spinning in a room full of magnets.
We nod. We nod. We nod.
The nodding is the work.
II.
Two cups cool between us.
You say the thing beneath the thing
and I hear it land
the way a coin landsβ
heads, tails, it doesn't matter,
what matters is the settling.
III.
But by one o'clock
we are talking about paintball.
Names on a list. Guns that aren't guns.
The afternoon cracks open
like something bright and stupid
and I want in. I want in.
I want the bruise, the yelling,
the permission to run.