My New Friend

11 May 2017

Today it poured and I drove through the rain
and when I got home I dripped and shook and sobbed
and ate microwave potatoes and tomato sauce
and Mum turned on the news and we watched the rain.

Today my new friend picked me up and I paid someone to put a hole through
my nose and in that moment of pain I closed my eyes and felt so alive
and she dropped me home and I ate some steamed cauliflower
and said I love you to Mum too many times.

Today I bought silver hoop earrings to be like my new friend
even though I’m not sure I want to be like her
at least I want to be like some of her
maybe the part that moves to another country and hosts poetry readings
maybe the part that does speed and nannies beautiful children who tug on her silver hoop earrings.

She keeps introducing me to twenty-somethings
who aren’t yet twenty
they fold their legs and play Mac Demarco and roll a cigarette
and they speak about work with their cement skin and glass eyes
and I knelt and wrote Leonard Cohen lyrics on her sharehouse wall
and I asked her about her loneliness
and she didn’t ask about mine.
Tonight I sat in the corner with my new friend
between the couch and the wall, curled into her charisma
and I was watching her words too closely and stumbled
and the wood grazed my leg
and I noticed how
her grace makes me so clumsy.

Tonight she was playing the guitar and all I wanted to do was sing
but I didn’t want to speak over her music
and she was too preoccupied
she’s always too preoccupied
and then she went to bed
and I drove home.

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