DAILYSOMETHING

That season

You find yourself smelling ticket stubs from warm pockets of summer clothes
smelling pencil stubs (with the erasers worn out by rubbing, not erasing)
smelling summer in a drawer of paper and chemicals
smelling happiness from warm pockets of summer clothes

You were happy then, but it was busy and complicated, tired
guilty and fast, at times false, bitter, great,
wrong, obnoxious, childish, ecstatic, forbidden
at times real and at times made up

The finish line unfolded old truths kept communally hidden
and bitterness suppressed by comfort and pleasure
simplified a primal hate, a primal love  (”tenderness is
a much more primal and powerful force than seduction.

That is why it is so hard to give up hope.”)