Today is Sunday and I took photos of a new friend
I am grateful that I take photos of my friends
I want to frame them and put them on my walls
the photos, too
I came home to jams my parents sent me
and made pancakes to try them with
– raspberry is always my favorite flavor
There are avocados on the counter
that will be ready this week
and the men outside my window are
blowing around the last leaves of November
I don't spend every Sunday like this
Sometimes, I spend Sunday deciding what I am
Deciding I am fleece lined mittens,
and warm baths,
and love letters
but maybe I am frostbite,
a stomach ache,
or a return address
Really I am bones
and breath
and blood
and hair
Sometimes I think that’s too much
but I am just a girl
with a collection of jams
waiting for the avocados on the counter to be ready
Sometimes I want to wear a hoodie to bed
but I should call my mom instead
Sometimes I want to disappear
but thank goodness I didn't
when it's time to shower
and wash my hair again
I could do this all day
completing myself
I’m tempted to try and complete you
I’m tempted to finish the sentences
I started about you
like how I watched your hair dry
from the back of the lecture hall the other day
but this and the rest are all helpless run ons
I'd rather write that sometimes,
my hair drys the way it did when I was small
in unruly curls I struggle like my mother did to manage
Some say walking is falling and catching yourself
Being alive is like that, too
Except when you want to stop
Lie in your own bed
the pillows soaking up your freshly washed hair
while it drys all around you in spirals
Being alive is like that too
November, 2022