poem: california

blackberries and granola in yogurt with expresso but afterwards you are still —
a glazed-over dream state. she bought her wedding for a $400 express package
in Vegas but afterwards regretted it. today I will wear a black blouse and off-white, off-
linen pants to a fictional job and listened to my manager lie about pitbulls. you should read
poetry — some of it is very bad. and they are still in anthologies. all my desperation left me
after I fell in love and now I cannot write. but it is joyous to see my variety berries and two types
of milk when I open the refrigerator door. my mother

cannot pay for my wedding but she asks, how is it living together? It’s easy writing: naked girl
in small (blink and it’s dirty) tub reading the imagists, he later comes in and
fingers me. I tell her: it’s going fine,

I cannot think what else to say. pouring myself into niceties — rent, electricity bill — I cannot
afford a latte. I do yoga sometimes in the afternoon before he comes home but
usually I clean. we keep the blinds down for the heat and pretend to fuck
on the couches, I live wet and swallowed inside an old woman’s dream.