K.

dreams as brittle as glass. or maybe it’s me: thin and fragile, 

leaning hard into my memory’s windowpane. you and i 

are out by the pool, counting stars. my heart’s a

chlorine-soaked pearl. you turn to whisper in my ear

but i can’t hear thing from where i am. where you are. 

you look so old, so much older than you should be. your lips on my ear

tickle like tall grass; fog snaking between pool 

chairs. fog of my breath distorting our already far

away bodies.