I asked if she was still reading
Infinite Jest—it’s the only thing
I know about my barista. She is.
I took my coffee and sat-down,
considered the day and worried
that would be my only conversation.
My mom asked me about a bank
account she set-up for my wedding.
I love my mom. I told her to leave it.
It’s good to be optimistic. Her text
tells me she laughed out loud.
Her text did not make me laugh.
I asked about what to do next.
I’d take any instruction: nap,
move to the Yukon, smile
at the next woman I pass.
My mind flipped between
an Eagles song I hate and
a hymn I forgot the words to.
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