It was the saddest carnival I ever seen,
with empty bottles rolling around the back
and smelly wrappers lying everywhere.
My scarf sat on the passenger seat,
still lying horizontally as if it were a lazy Sunday.
Lying as if it were just yesterday.
All day I walked oblivious to the snowfall,
worried instead about the head-on collision
between My Dream and My Dream,
both unholy and holey and now numb.
And I worried about my Great Plan to write
five sweet and wholly unromantic sonnets
for every day that you will be away,
while my ill parents lie in bed filing the taxes.
We will not be getting the rest we need to.
I am drinking more caffeine so as to hold my voice hostage.
Which is incredibly self-righteous of me.
But, on a Bad News day there is always a first.
Like a Chipotle burrito, which I had for the first,
which had steak and guac and was very spicy.
I wanted nothing but to eat the whole thing,
every kernel of corn,
every scrap of meat,
until my tongue was sweltering,
ready for a great big thank-you kiss.
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