all of this is urgent
therefore nothing is.
I read that on a rubber green bracelet that was given to me
by a boy at a concert when I was 19.
He said he loved me and disappeared behind the smoke
so I spent my years after that
building fires of my bones and discarding the embers
to make others warm.
none of this will exist one day, you tell me. you won’t exist.
I decide to make it all important, I make it all alarming,
I seek the answers when I’m sad,
so I press my coins into fortune teller’s palms
and tell her to read every line
that has been carved into me
by a lover.
they all left, she tells me
which reminds me
that funerals are for the living, really.