Two Hundred and Forty-Three.


Izzy circle


I would watch TV for hours with you even if the screen went static.


Sarah circle


I know the fear’s real because it slides down the sides of my stomach
not sharp and central, the way anxiety bites me
and I walk with proud purpose, pushing aside dog-walkers
skirting around children with my eyes on high beam
I take down license plates of cars I don’t know
which in this city is all of them, so I take down a lot
I wish bikes had license plates too
instead, I stare down a cyclist and take his dashing exit as a sign
I decide that I can’t be the one to break the news to your mother
whatever that news is
I decide that I will let the police speak to her first, lay the track
and then I will barrel down it with my train whistle words
shooting out steam in the shape of insubstantial apologies
night is falling, of course, and I am perfectly calm
as I jog down the road in search of your face
when it comes, I am facing the wrong way
and it all feels wrong, like I was mean to be the hero
but I missed the memo and turned up at the wrong time
we are silent and panting as I walk you back home



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