love is inconvenience                                  waking up at 6am to drive your homegirl to court & all the way

back out to San Jose for the tacos she likes after                           sitting on the amtrak for a nightpointfive

running across the DFW airport in heeled boots                on the cheapest layover you could

find          is asking                           is waiting unnecessarily in the car until she is inside

is Huong & their grown out fade                             Victoria’s babydoll dresses & pineapple CBD

cigarettes                 tobacco makes her head hurt                   love is lifegiving &          I am made of every girl

who lent me shoes            Kavya w/ her wide smile & raven hair              always pressing me to eat

Nina & her lipstick pink as tendon         watching a movie starring a Hutcherson with our legs

tangled together          gossiping over mint tea             our laughter like a screen door in spring

in my calzone i request Canadian bacon sundried tomatoes basil artichokes & mushrooms & myfriend is assured of herself 26 & less afraid & growing into their short cut & it shows in their posturetheir toothy smile & the person they’re in love with for now is symmetrical to her lanky & wearingcomfortable Reeboks & I watch them argue the definition of prehistoric over garlic bread & we discussour favorite books while the pizza takes too long he explains to me what chaplains do & the waitress isSouthern gorgeous all sparkly pink eyeshadow & Sewanee accent & her three ear piercings are dottedwith studs in the color of the flag

Huong & their ravenous love for life their smile warmer than Henny their sideways wink       it’s

August & the antidepressants are working         I beam in my dress rife with abrasions         slices of my

hips & ribs     shining from the slits     I bruise so easy & it’s almost the end of summer you can taste it

on everyone’s voices & Huong has a way of making me playful again        teasing me into venturing out

of the new apartment       we christen the bathroom with smoke      we each have pleasant conversations

with our mothers over the phone          gossip about the church daughters like we aren’t them

outside sirens ring but the fire isn’t us          & Huong has a way of admitting things that makes you

want to love them           they explain how to cook a seafood boil without letting the corn dry out

we talk about our mothers & they’re more women than ghosts             & we’re more boys than

daughters       grinning & walking slow at the Kehlani concert               we worship at her outfit the color

of slate while surrounded by other church daughters     when we finally get back home all we need is

the washed sheets           the gray camp chair on the balcony           the quasi-quiet of insects at night

our merch cost $50 & the train was late but      most things can be fixed if you put a little Old Bay on it