brows up, brows down
in the rearview mirror at a stoplight,
examining the fine lines
left by time tiptoeing from left ear to right.
some notion of fairness tells us
that blemishes should clear by wrinkle season
yet these lines and spots seem to get along fine
on my face, the Morse code of imperfection
across the table in the dim hip light
i feign eye contact, sneaking glimpses at your forehead.
your lines are deeper. have you frowned more,
thought more, been shocked more times than i?
we are new to each other; we will never know
the space between our smooth-skinned selves.
i barely know your father but i see already
you are, as years crawl, becoming him.
here i am, back in tumbl-land
and I’m not sure what all to say. it’s been 6 months and i am the same but everything is different. i wake up at 6am. my eyes are glued 10 hours a day to two screens propped in the corner of an office that is too big for just me. there’s not a single day that the sun doesn’t shine. my evenings are spin classes and maybe dinner and bed. california hills rise around me but i don’t know who to climb them with.
my three best friends within ten miles are all jewish boys. at least one of them makes me laugh aloud each day and that is what i need.
i pine for the city and the life i left every day. being an adult is mostly what i thought it would be. let’s see where tumblr fits in.