im not trying to document my suicide
He and I press our faces and palms together like I did when I was a child, eat cherry popsicles with jokes on the sticks (Where do cows go on dates? What do books carry when they leave home?) because it's almost summer again and we will soon be hanging out routinely, and still stupid, and still together.
At night I lay on the roof of my house like I did two summers ago and watch the airplanes land. and then walk to the little park behind my fence. I go belly down, head first on the slides. he and I used to push each other off of and force my face against the plastic to try and remember what he said that one night about storms and my eyes. I just keep coming back to the little reasons why I love you. I write this down in my notebook in pen; pen is more permanent, and permanent is something I worry about. I make my worries into lists now: letters neatly lined up in thick black marker. Growing old, it says. Having children. Grades. 8 glasses of water a day. Money. Feeling lenticular. Heart attacks. Kidney failure. Exercise. Sodium levels. Politics. Eating enough vegetables. Getting cancer.
Being permanent.
At night I lay on the roof of my house like I did two summers ago and watch the airplanes land. and then walk to the little park behind my fence. I go belly down, head first on the slides. he and I used to push each other off of and force my face against the plastic to try and remember what he said that one night about storms and my eyes. I just keep coming back to the little reasons why I love you. I write this down in my notebook in pen; pen is more permanent, and permanent is something I worry about. I make my worries into lists now: letters neatly lined up in thick black marker. Growing old, it says. Having children. Grades. 8 glasses of water a day. Money. Feeling lenticular. Heart attacks. Kidney failure. Exercise. Sodium levels. Politics. Eating enough vegetables. Getting cancer.
Being permanent.