After the funeral, we’ll go camping.

Not me, man
No way
She lost her crooked smile
Might’ve left it by the sea
She could’ve been drunk
In the passenger seat
Out of my sight
Out of her mind
She thought of fruit trees
And his middle name
How it reminded her of a song
From the time she first heard
She’d been pretending to see
What he’d been pretending to be
The ad said rain or shine
But skipped what’s in between
On the front step
She’d worried herself sick
Turning inside out
While they ate her alive
But the newspaper covered it up
That first night after the last morning
When the past offered advice to the future
As if it were a form of consolation
For a 30 year old teenage girl
No way, man
Not me
At least not recently

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