Cass and I are coming down sweaty like

two sheets of velvet. Or I’m coming

down and she’s sober which I never remember

because she’s better at partying than me.

It’s god-awful messy in here

same as always. Like a scar

she slips out the apartment.

 

Monday night, Carter next to me tying

his laces together. I just learned

how to say no

and it still feels wet in my hands.

From my window, the street’s

got this October fuzz.

 

Under Texas law, the death of an unborn child

is defined as the failure to be born alive.

Texas law is meaner than hell.

I take a plan b and listen to trap music.

I buy new sheets and watch them lose their limerence.

I name each of the roadkill on my way home.