My mother keeps pressing her cheek against mine and telling me how grateful she is.Grateful.Grateful.All I feel is irreverent.All I feel is the static on your end of the lineAnd the weight of my own voice in your hand.Both of us entirely too grateful.Like a six minute silent phone call is everything and nothing all at once and nothing is worth everything so...

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She washed her windows like the back of her eyelids,Like last years lyrics hadn't quite worn off yet.She wore her collar like her pride,And her keyring like an anchor.She was Chicago:Wind-blown hair every weekday,But Vegas on a Saturday.(Not the strip, just the lights.)Phoenix: never sure if the neighbors would be around come June,But she's always been Colorado.I saw her science and her shoulders.I...

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