Sylvie Later, Three A.M.
Still awake, holding
Winslow like
a teddy bear. Get up,
check the locks
again. When I get
like this I’m reliving
the same two minutes
on a tight little loop.
Can’t breathe. Someday
I’m going to die. I didn’t
know that before
Geitner Road and now
I know it all the time.
Telling lies
about myself
to myself, like
you’re safe, like
you can do this. Do
my useless checklist:
Did I drink enough
water? Did I take
my pills? In the shower
I thought about
the nameless boy who smiled
at me like he couldn’t see
what was all over me. Kind-eyed,
nothing like the hard stare
of the girl raiding my van. Did I
do something to deserve that?
No, I think,
stop thinking
and into that silence
I remember the hundred-
thousand-dollar
credit limit on my mom’s Amex,
the Amex right now in Dawn’s pocket,
and okay, fine, I laugh a little
thinking about how
those two were made for each other.