Islands

I can’t ask you about miley's album. Do we like it? What is she saying in the handstand song?

Did you go to Taylor’s concert. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. You talked about buying a 10 pack of tickets. A gaggle of tickets. 

I had a dream about islands last night. It was open again. The one on balboa. I was inside, at the bar facing the front door. two guys were removing  a door that was nailed to the inside of the door. And then they opened the front door. I walked around the bar and picked up my phone to text you. 

Then the dream changed, as if my unconscious knows I can’t ask you. 

It’s like you’re gone. But still here. It reminds me of that feeling only you know. With mom. That you could replicate the exact situation is beyond me, but also so perfect because how could you not. 

Obi Wan’s wife is in Ahsoka. She won’t look familiar to you, but you’d believe me when I told you while we were watching together.

We’d also joke about a map with no names and Alexandretta.  

I have no one to talk to about Daniel Radcliff’s physical transformation for Miracle Workers  which reminds me I need to watch Miracle Workers. I don’t even know what app it’s on since you removed me from your streaming service. Without a peep. I did wonder how long I’d be there. You had to skip passed me to get to the other profiles. Because I was there before they were.

He would see my name every time. And so would you.

I can’t tell you the spot where all my hair ties hide (between the couch cushions).

We three are the islands. Our ports are only open to each other if the tides and wind and sky and sand and sun are aligned with the stars and moon and Jupiter and settings of knobs and levers we keep to ourselves that constantly adjust themselves without us moving them.

They’re always moving.

Others come and go on our islands; ports are open to outsiders who don’t hold the stories we know. The stories we’ve tried to forget and the stories that only our bones know.

I stand at the shore of my island, your port empty. I’ve called back the balloons and banners. No welcome party to threaten welcome you  

No. I don’t like Miley’s new album. But that’s just me and we don’t always like the same things.