she says i’m in a rut emulating her favorite movie anti-heroine

and pours a glass of white wine at 11:30 am

after hearing his voice turn curt and drop an octave

as he answers his phone

there was something she was searching for

and almost found

a few months ago but as usual she got distracted

by butterflies in her stomach, a dead deer on the road, and a midnight phone call

so now she’s sharing memories and not contributing anything

NEW

convincing herself that she won’t be dead in ten years

if she quits drinking, smoking, fucking, and creating mayhem

watching her old derelict friends become mothers

questioning all the beliefs she thought she had

tomorrow she whispers

and lights another cigarette