Not e s

Ki r b y Low e N s t e i N

I remember when I learned that sand is made up of millions of rocks.

I remember when I saw that humans are made up of millions of shapes.

We drove around in a black model T wearing black bowler hats.

We ate Twizzlers and lied to ourselves.

We just sat.

Being siblings was enough in common.

I remember when I realized that my teachers were people;

I remember when I accepted that my parents are people.

I remember when I realized that shame is a waste,

belief takes practice, and coffee changes everything.

I was sitting alone in a Starbucks.

Sally sure knows how to give a loaded look.

Does road rage run in families?

Why didn’t he mention the tar streaks of mascara on my face?

What’s the best question you’ve ever received?

The response felt tepid.

Routes to class had to pass our stencil.

Often my paths became quite circuitous.

One day I will have a home of my own.

I will paint the walls white and cover them with drawings in permanent ink.