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I might throw it all out there and walk away, heels clicking on the shitty fake-wood floor.

There are too many broken copiers and not enough forests in the vicinity of my day-to-day, 

stuck seated and somehow still sweaty and wishing my bank account didn’t tie me to office furniture.

The bunny that hopped toward me in the parking lot today, shiny black eye making contact with my shiny blue one – what did he want anyway, other than to tell me to get the fuck out of here?

When all is said and done, when I leave late and hop on the train and then get home and check my email for the 113th time today, I’ve missed watching my mint plant growing taller in the summer sun.

birthday 29!

on the day that marked me being alive for 29 years
i woke up 3 minutes before my alarm
the flowers i bought yesterday looked beautiful
the sweater i wore is one of my favorites
i made a really great egg scramble for breakfast
i was out the door right on time
the drive to work wasn’t bad at all
i had a seat on the metro and read my new book
i got a free birthday starbucks drink
i saw a cute beagle-y dog
it was raining exactly the right amount
work kept me busy and wasn’t too stupid
my coworkers wished me a happy birthday
a lot of friends and family texted and wrote on my facebook wall
i bought tickets to a play full of people i love
more time to read on the train
i picked up sushi for dinner – it was made in 6 minutes!
i saw a bluejay fly by
i opened a card from aunt pat, and it had ten dollars inside
i made weekend exercise plans with my work bff
i baked a confetti cake that i then devoured
my ukulele asked for a tuning, so we played some songs together
i showered without shaving my legs
i applied a temporary tattoo to my shoulder that tells me carpe futurum
i pulled back my neatly made covers and slid under them
I watched an episode of grace and frankie
i set my alarm for the morning
i sunk into bed and slept

As fall begins

Muscle relaxants made of grief
Hot tea brought by a Scotsman
Old college sweatshirts and ibuprofen

There’s no way to tell where the fever ends and the cells of your skin begin

on a monday morning
when the big boss brings in coffee cake and mimosas
to calm the rising angst in the office
as the annual conference countdown begins,
and when your supervisor adds 11 things
to your list
and most of those things
are drafting email reminders
(you definitely went to college
to do fulfilling work like this),
and when your shin splints
keep you from the only thing
that was making you sane, temporarily,
and when you’ll be working for 11 days
without one day off and only
6.5 hours of overtime somehow,
and when your stomach constantly
hurts because you drink too much
terrible coffee and you worry all the time,
and when your boyfriend tells you
you’re beautiful but you can’t believe
him because you actually do
look like shit,
and when you scratch and kick
and thrash and moan in your sleep,
and when you’re fucking up
just as much as everyone else

you do have that mimosa
and you do have all the online job search engines
and you do have a mom who will listen to all your complaining and crying on the phone
and you do have a boyfriend who thinks you’re beautiful even after you’ve been sweating
and you do have a comfy bed to dive into when the day is done
and you do have a pen and a notebook
and you do have peach pie ingredients at home
and you do have a ukulele that takes just a few seconds to tune
and you do have the extra oomph to try again and then again

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When I’m on the metro in the morning and the evening
When the red line is delayed for the 8th time in two weeks
When I have another hour and a half to go
Your words accompany me, and I sit and wait with ease

If Portland
Or Cupertino
Or Austin
Or Atlanta
Or Chicago
Or New York
Gets you
They will be
The luckiest

They will get
(And I will miss)
Your giggling
And morning stories
And accents
And exuberance
And gregariousness
And filmmaking rage
And political frustration
And writing passion
And musical talent
And gentleness
And kindness
And over-eager cheering-up attempts
And care
And embraces
And plan-making
And blue eyes
And playfulness
And truth-telling
And dog noises
And text message codes
And optimism
And nuzzling
And sweet attention to detail

If Portland
Or Cupertino
Or Austin
Or Atlanta
Or Chicago
Or New York
Gets you
I will be grateful
You loved me
And I will go back
To God
(For entirely
Selfish reasons)
To beg to
Get you again

I hid my puffy eyes behind my hair.
You didn’t know I had been crying.
I wouldnt let you in.
You covered me with a blanket and let me sleep.
I threatened to walk away.
You hugged me until I was quiet.
I fell into dark hopelessness.
You gave me room to breathe.
I felt like a young girl.
You weren’t afraid to love me.

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