Could be Anyone

Red-pocket afternoons when

car tread ignites the twenty dollar bills

folded into my denim shorts.

Your blankets are limp on the floor

under our bare feet,

and the waterfront is full of ducks

and fat people.


Your arm is a smooth curve

around my waist,

but we don’t love each other

the way everyone thinks we do.

The air feels

caught between the city’s

brick walls;

a little bit stale

this afternoon.


Dinner is a hole in my pocket,

and I’m still staring at the sunflowers

on my plate

like they’re old photographs

with blurred faces.


Your necklaces have long ago broken

and I’ve since made my own.

I think the knots are stronger that way.


by Circe


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