on parallel parking and other things you can't handle.

the bone and cartilage
have been replaced
by titanium
and rubber bands
or something
of those natures.

she'll carry a card now
to pass through airport
metal detectors
without raising eyebrows
stripping down
or missing flights.
that's the conversation piece.

and tomorrow she gets
fifty-four staples removed
from her legs
with only local anesthesia.
i'm not jealous
but she'll make it.
she's made it this far.
that's not my story
to tell, though.
even i
draw the line
somewhere.

but tonight when
i stopped by the house
where i used to take naps
between high school classes
and three-hour shifts at a fast food job
i saw her in bed propped up
against three pillows
and noticed that her arms had thinned
her chest had sucked itself in
since going under those new knives
a week-and-a-half ago.

it was hard to see
harder to watch
with opened eyes
and the hug
was categorically weak
as a result.

it's just part of getting
used to the cold
hard fact that
all flowers wither
and eventually

they wilt.



Currently reading:
"Under the Roofs of Paris" by Henry Miller.