february twelfth is full of farewells

1.

what, have i done. 

my suitcases too heavy to pick up with two hands 

but 

i say quietly

this is everything i have.

i'm not afraid, but i cannot see what's coming.

write she said. don't forget to write.

2.

my best friend looks nothing like me

but she is my best friend.

i open a card she has placed in an ivory envelope

and suddenly my face is wet, my nose, the ink filled paper.

across the airport, an older korean woman watches me

the yellow beneath her eyes reddening

im glaring at her, i feel the fangs beneath my upper lip emerge 

sharp.

3.

i push the words down with spoonfuls of soup 

biting into jalapeno skin, crisp to forget what i'm doing here

well, i say, throwing my cigarette to the ground. 

i want this to be over

i want to be alone on that plane

an ocean between us

to forget.

he looks at me, or my right ear

my hand gathering the black around me, cold.

why so dramatic he laughs

my fingers grasping 

his elbow, my mouth settling for his dimple. 

he forgets what it's like to know me 

to love me, or he would.

i turn without looking back

willing him to miss me, to want me like 

two bodies in a quiet room of books.

4.

joel says goodbye

tears streaming down his face

his lower lip catching the time between us. 

i'm a pint of whiskey in, squinting into his sadness

we touch hearts and whisper the word special

so quietly, neither of us will forget.

5.

two forks, nachos, two corn quesadillas and a side of rice on the bed

beth and i eat lying down spinning crying. 

we hold hands and try to sleep.