When you wore your funeral dress all weekend
then witnessed a terrible accident.
When you dreamt you were asked your worth.
When you heard screaming when you woke.
After you passed three abandoned drive-ins.
When you realized you’re lonely for everything,
the chicken pox, the desert, kissing underwater.
When you channeled your rage by crushing
Grandma’s cigarettes that she kept
tucked behind the stove. When the clouds
looked like burn scars from an old chemical
fire, the sky was black, burnt skin, curdling.
When you started falling in love with
the backs of heads. When wild dogs followed
you to your doorstep. When the light bends
in a unique and startling way. To describe the total
annihilation of a city. When the fan spins. When
it’s six am and there are two people sleeping
in your bed and neither one of them is you.
When you were capturing the light off their bodies
then selling it to people. When he was telling
you to look at the sun, like it’s some
trick you never heard of.