Outside we hugged And coveted red and black minivans For their parking spaces Smoking Laughing hard Losing breath A million jokes about machinery Cogs and wires spread loose we oil and pick inside Sitting on the soil In the concrete It took me long enough to get my paper lotus It’s still on the dashboard of my car
______’s purple hair ______’s red hair my red hair a milli On little hairs in my flannel pockets ______’s cigarette sm Oke in the layers of my lungs and clothes borrowing some f Rom ______ ______ and ______ grilled cheese all around Coffee tea empty cups marked with caffeine rings always w Ith ______ memorizing wrinkles lines colors texture clothin G style because I don’t know the next time I’ll see ______ o R _______ or ______ but I love them and when _______ as Ked how my aborted dates were and sent me pictures with _ _____ Empty cans and empty jars and empty wrappers swee Ts and teeth all stained and tired under the eyes everyone has Bags under the eyes and _______’s hates ___ but I see the sa Me purple swells like bruises and creme puffs under my eye an D _____ still loves me I know it and when ______ dissapeare D we all wondered why and when ______ stopped coming as Often we wondered why and asked each other but nobody kne W and we knew nobody would know no I don’t need to expla In why I left the room it was _______’s remembering that ma De me remember and outside I was crying and ______ put ___ _ arm against mine the closest we can go in the July August he At illegal contact is always forbidden like children but I still get Phone calls and messages from ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ ______ _______ and I promised to visit that sex shop
The last day I saw those minivans The last day I saw the inside of a room Where the windows never opened The last day I saw my own sweat pool On my glasses with everyone still shaking What does it truly take To see someone again?
My last day everyone told me how much they loved me. I stopped eating those muffins but I still bought them. I bought another muffin on my last day. After I left the facility I started eating them all. Two muffins a day saved up. Chocolate chip smudges on my mattress my face my sheets my car seats. Everyone remembers how I would always be eating a muffin and cracking my joints. The told me so. They were gonna miss the sound of me cracking my neck. I offered to record it. It’s not the same, they said. I thought to myself What does it truly take to see someone again? Anyone really. All my muffins have been flattened in my bag. My joints still carry enough tension to snap.
Christopher Rios is an organizer and writer living in New Brunswick. All you need to know about them is that they love the beach but hate the sand. They love radiating an aura of mystery. They keep personal facts such as they were writing since they were six years old, they get depressed sometimes, and they love a good rib to themselves. All for the mystery.