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
