My dad always spoke to our mailmen
Regardless of where we moved,
Or the time of their route.
How different the sound and pressure feel
Crushing coffee beans, ice cubes and millipedes beneath a rubber soul.
Ciao, Pardner
Montana royalty
That cattle call in your heart
herds you home
Through the muck of indefinite pandemic
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Sometimes I kiss my hands
under my covers late at night,
pretend I’m kissing you. But
they don’t kiss back, of course,
I was tired of my man boobs
so I woke up early the next day
and did some pushups
When I read the ‘About’ section about bands and fantasise about
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YOU GAUGE THE NECESSITY OF ART
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you know that feeling that’s like
the feeling of having too many
awkward conversations
in one day?