I dive into a fresh pool of shining glass–
who wants to spend their years with me?

The new-city-me screams its lungs out for
you. Looking to the past, I fall in love

again. I’ll be promiscuous when
unemployed. I can’t face life

pursuing absolute perfection. Maybe
I will soften my hair, finally. My cat

may not be into this. We lay sideways
in a beam of sun on dust-layered carpet,

moving our eyes to the wall’s tricks of light.

(originally published in Count Seeds With Me [Ethel Zine and Micro-Press], Spring 2022)