I. love letter

you arrive in a flurry of flowers.
the sun shines, the shades are up. they can never be down when you’re here.
i remember myself. coffee
is a given. we walk everywhere. the twos and threes of subway seats
are natural. strolling into restaurants,
speaking my name or flashing fingers.
these are shoes well-worn but never withering.

you pull the same tricks i’d used for years
to surprise me with cupcakes, four. and
five dollar peach wine, (hope that hasn’t risen with inflation,)
tastes best from ikea mugs on the floor
under yellow lights

just like in our old
yellow apartment

photos from your yellow disposable
of us eating mcdonald’s on our
blue futon

graduating in blue-gold go bears
i wish we’d never left california.

i wish i’d never remembered that i do in fact
like mushrooms and
only avoided them because you didn’t
because you don’t.

in new york, you
cut the stems of the flowers
place them in mason jars and on the sill
we take photos of them in yellow sunset,
after a yellow nap,
there are sheets and clothes everywhere
there are so many leftovers in the fridge.

we take turns in the mirror styling our identical wavy heads
assembling the same outfits in different fonts
opening our mouths and speaking each other’s voices
lilting a thousand times familiar,
i could recognize you anywhere.

your handwriting in a card strikes me as what i know best
you leave a pen and too much space,
you’re who i love best
we’re what i love best.

From the author: I drafted this piece in March, after my college roommates visited me for Match Day. I love them.

II. mum

From the artist: My mum sends me the Wordle every day. It reminds me I have other homes.