notes from October

it’s all in your head

a few strums on a guitar

the shower’s quiet fall

& the way limbs tremble

beneath hot water. the reverb

of chords back and forth

we stare at the pink 

five o’clock sunset 

from the second story 

of the California Pizza Kitchen

tears stream down my face—

violet in the reflection

of the glass, and the pink sunset 

wet mascara swept away 

the record left spinning in my room

glow from long escalators

silence 

fog 

concrete

the sunset’s over now, it’s just dark

fingers brush

beneath the table

in the corner booth

of the stupid California Pizza Kitchen

it’s my secret—you and me

it’s your hand 

the distant street, your blonde hair

chilly mornings, rain & 

the puddles it made

we sing oh in the same key

I know what oh means—why it hurts

how nights blur together in the suburbs

empty streets & how we fill them

three-story Target, red stop signs 

fingers pressing deep into strings

rough imprints left on skin

a heavy strum

over and over and over again