Met up w friends and had a good long walk, brought my dog, friends spoiled her rotten, laughed at stupid things then debated a few stupider things. My feet begin to tire but the air is crisp and now we’re past my old home. We’re not the same anymore and I’m not understanding all the jokes but I’m still pleasantly surprised that we stumbled upon the same songs, or that you explain lore the same way you used to share notes before an exam.
The job market sucks but you can call my dad, he has experience in that. It’s not networking, not really. You’re my friend. I picked up ingredients to practice those scones, the ones you like. It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it? I get the date almost right.
You still keep in contact with someone who I parted ways with, and when I hear their name off your tongue it reminds me of how long we’ve known each other. And all the versions you both have known of me. Including the one that used to call that name like it was family. It could bother me, hearing it now from your lips. I’m not there anymore. And my habit is to force certainty—closeness or distance; I want clarity and I want it all the time—but the reality is different. And I’m trying to be different, too.
I had a good time, I’m going to go now. To a nursery. I’m trying to grow. I’m trying to grow a garden. You can come? If you’d like? Did your parents end up keeping the milkweed? I like this plant. And this one too. I’m sorry, I’m rambling. This is what I love to do. But I usually do the things I love alone. Am I boring you? No? Please tell me if I am. Thanks for being here. I like seeing my friends with plants in their hands. Someone comes up to me, we’ve met once or twice. Kind, they have kind eyes. They remember my name, and they could just be good with names but it still feels nice. I know where that plant is! Here, come with me. The last one just for you. We’re going to go now (maybe I’ll get to see you soon)? Hop in the car, plop the dog in his lap, join my jam. Jostle shoulders, feel each bump, it’s an old car you understand. Talk about the roadtrips we still haven’t done. Pup is asleep in the crook of an elbow, and the traffic doesn’t feel so bad, karaoke through the intersection, squeak through the high notes and the lights. We’re not the same.
