islands in the stream

five by five hundred

those early days involved shrieking
punctuated by an hour or so
of clarity: we both knew all the
hits penned by the Gibbs not
performed by the Gibbs and so
we decided we were best friends –
a meeting of the minds at the bar
just by the gumball machine
stocked with stale peanut M&Ms.
like little girls with pricked fingers
sealing this with little girl blood,
only bourbon, forever and ever.

i’d lost it long before you did.
you were the only one who
didn’t recoil from me, didn’t
wonder was i pregnant? on
because nobody
else could fathom why i’d stop.
you didn’t get it yourself but
you didn’t question, just changed
the scenery, the backdrop of
our little performances. coffee.
shopping. i couldn’t stammer
the words to convey the gratitude.
gratitude was still foreign, something
bounced among the folding chairs i
was now surrounded…

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