written for fun (not a writer)
watching the mothers pushing strollers languidly as they walk home in the summer sunset the air so still and temperate that it feels like nothing on my skin. the book i'm reading (strange girls by sarvat hasin) reminds me of the words my best friend and i say to each other when one of us gets too sentimental, "you can never get it back! you can never get it back!" as we drive each other on the highway to or back from our little events, looking out the window knowing we'll never be this young again.
end-stage capitalism. raspberry pie. chamomile tea. regional accents.
we talk round and round. you put a mousepad on your head. have you ever seen me without this stupid hat. that's weird. strange spirits haunt our conversation past midnight. i perform an exorcism. there is only now. there is no then. do not be afraid my love, my friend.
here i am practicing making a column in html to see if it comes out right.
right now i am thinking about catbirds, their chaotic song chirping along all morning, how they are sexually monomorphic, and they all wear a funny little hat. additionally i am thinking about a short story my friend wrote, feeling uncomfortable in my body, and how i forgot to take my ssri this morning.