Kent Avenue followed me — from the year my mother arrived
through someone else’s life to gifting, forgetting, & the
walking away I’ll never be forgiven. To the now: the re-
discovery of dust, stuck-hammered U & W, first pure joy of
over a decade, find that address printed black across strips
sticky-white for mending errors, misgivings from moments taken
too quickly like curves of my home’s dirt roads, yes, it grabs again,
un-fingered gloves, hair carefully mussed to appear on just this side of
the apathy line. Kent Avenue, Don’t you have hipsters to haunt?
Some girls raiding Grandma’s closets for authentic eau d’mothball?
Why hunt me down in Cola-town, flannel shirt, jeans, make-up
streaked from trying to keep simplicity sacred? I don’t mean to
push away — Stopped fighting inevitables — but if you hope for the
alteration I anticipate, you’ll flee back to your comfort sooner,
tell Bedford of abuse, commiserate with Myrtle, DeKalb for lackings.
Any shiftings in me are according to pre-calculated paths. If your mission
stems from artist’s lips, please relay the following message:
I bought this sweater for want to crawl into yours, & I can’t stop
the smile referring to your awe of her curling into me; Images of spider
webs across a lake frozen long, unnoticed by most since a solid foot
allowed no soundwaves to carry, no ripples or subterranean shudders,
frosted-over sight of creators’ smiles upon “Hello”; Fingertips press hard,
too hard, to hold the cliched upperhand, please always, please never release
hands clutched to cloth worn thin over heads, please forget words passed
on from unknowing mouths never pressed present in this position — Darlin’,
you know best from just the one smeared waking; The violence of Good
Morning, no coffee, lack of winter, but a disregarding away nonetheless;
The violence of misinterpretation six inches, then 726 miles but wafer-wine-
like absolution in the shock of tone, pitch, adoration along satellite signals;
Assumed oblivion like plugged ear blindfold & ballad — Here, dear, understand
method & means simply — hold the pen, strike the key, & curse through any
word herein; Push needs Pull, but I could never handle both, so choose & leave
the minding, filling of gaps to me; If more of the same is what you seek,
the cookies will burn, the mess will fall to you; But please don’t forget to set
the butter on the counter before I arrive.

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