22 and ageless

In the air, my words left and carried

Further than deep smoke and ageless 

cold draft of empty barstools 

A jukebox hums like crackling wire 

steam of old love dying 

It folds through the windows and doors 

My friend Emily asks me if I want anything else, 

tipping her drink slightly to the left

A drop splashes on her sandals

 she spent four hours modeling for me, yesterday at target

A pang, a whisper or a symphony?

I don’t know what hits me but I know that it hurts 

And she is impatient but also kind, 

I bite down hard on my tongue to distract myself from crying 

Yes, I tell her, whatever you see.

Drunken strangers are dancing together, and 

How can I be this fucking close to love 

How can I touch the ends of each memory softening like a hot spike 

But it never stays,

No one ever stays, 

A man walks towards me; sitting in a bar chair of broken linoleum seating 

I watch my friends dance.

He follows my gaze, his eyes feel hungry and empty 

You are too beautiful to be in a place like this,

He says, casual but concise, 

Setting down a drink on top of the napkin

Where I had been drawing mandala suns. 

Anger blossoms in my toes and disappears by the time it reaches my chest

I meet his gaze and dissolve.

Emily comes back ten minutes later,

My drink spilling through her fingers

Throwing her arms around me and telling me all of her secrets.

On the broken stage a trio of ladies slosh beer around 

Screeching brakes meant as old love songs. 

I want to tell you all about this night 

But we haven’t spoken in thirty-four days, 

And tomorrow is my birthday.

Who can I tell, 

Who would care 

I am too exhausted

 to turn twenty-two.