An Assortment of Thoughts

Musings.

1. My hands slip into the front pocket of his jeans

As though they’re sinking into memory foam.

2. Back alleyways were designed for drunken memories.

3. Vodka cheapened by murky lemon soda water.

4. Sarcasm feels far too safe to mean I’m losing.

5. White canvas snaps in the wind, cracking with the bite of a whip.

That’s what sailing sounds like.

6. Life is an unexpected script.

7. Scripts are pre-written.

8. I fear confrontation.

Waves cradle me but wind scares me.

9. Water is our cradle.

10. Spirals of air flirt with my canvas and

the wind is more spontaneous and interesting so…

11. I can’t blame him.

I keep things in parallel lines.

12. And memory foam doesn’t have memories.