in the basement i watched you snort coke. what were the starter jackets doing on our small shoulders. when the moon is full above mom’s toyota and we are talking about life. i admire your fingernails and blushing cheeks. can you imagine what it might be like if i took you behind this day and said ‘let’s start over?”. there aren’t any second chances. rain will come through the moon roof. i want the world to stay in one tab so i don’t have to keep clicking over. my hands are developing carpal tunnel. when he beat his wife she would run across the street barefoot crying. we would call the police. i walked around barefoot because i wanted to feel the earth and i wasn’t worried about glass. i didn’t need to run. how many times can we watch all seven seasons of Sopranos on my bed. i want to be like Adriana. missing for two years. but really dead.i want to get my nails done. i want them to be so long that when i stick my hand out the car window on the highway i can reach back to before you left. it’s raining. i am barefoot in my yard. i am wearing my italian american for you. i am tan and glowing. and saying fuck you. the moon tells you not to. but you leave anyhow.