Sunday, January 7, 2024

I forgot about Ali

When I saw her first in 2013 she was yanking on a locked door handle animated unashamed to be impatient and laughing.

That way of beautiful girls who are also silly, a whole universe to study and wonder about.

After she easily opened our friendship I could just stand at the top of a staircase and laugh with out pause at her down below confused by her own ramble having found herself surprised to have arrived.

I met her parents at her college graduation, we went out for ice cream.

Their faces were hers unscrambled and separated like time in reverse and sex in reverse I could see the genetics braided together and placed on her fresh.


I’ve aged in a quick spin, dunked into a washing machine strung up to air out.

And she sees me, recognizes ways about me that have been true.

We agree that neither of us has the grace to attend an old classmate’s wedding without sweating, losing track of ourselves, abandoning.


His ego shakes in its loafers and her lovability gallops down a dirt path with its hair yellow frizzing and speaking with a lisp.

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