GYM CONFESSIONS: 7

south berwick summer sabbatical

I. inside

noah kahan concert clips
on the television, dad teary
eyed while mom pops
kettle corn in the microwave.
dog, jasper, jasper’s licking
a bugbite beneath my bulged
out kneecap. table top fan
whirring lazily, flopping my
sunbaked bangs across the bridge
of my blackhead plagued nose.

II. outside

9pm parking lot behind dairy queen,
shoulder slumped in my friend’s
car doorway. red plastic spoon hangs
out the corner of my dry lips, biscoff
and vanilla ice cream slipping
down my chin. mosquitos zipping
under my earlobe, absolutely
on the hunt. there are no stars
in the sky tonight. my friend says,
that’s global warming for you.

III. on my mind

beautiful bff in her gaming chair,
minecraft glaring at us from her desktop.
she’s due in a month; nephew rattling
in her belly, impatient and starving
for this brand new world.
her soft laughter, a summer melody
i’ve known since august of 2008,
when we first found ourselves waddling
across her freshly mown lawn,
baby-sized soccer ball darting between
our toddler nikes.

jasper’s last vet visit
forgotten in his mighty
grin, the one crossing his mug
as he bathes under the insisting
sun, belly pressed to pebbles,
ignoring the horseflies gnashing
at his floppy ears.

hugs passed early in the morning,
car stuffed with folded laundry
and paper shopping bags. my honda
idles as i mumble see you in a few weeks
against the feather-soft fluff of my
mother’s sideburns — the ones i
am so proud to have inherited.
they shoot wild kisses after me
as i head for the road, a warm
demand: come home soon.