As a, I want to, so I can by Kelley Tai
18 lines
Issue 2 (Spring/Summer 2023)
Tell me about the time I thought you were supposed to be
my confidant, my friend, my—something.
I didn't want it to be like this, we weren't supposed to be like this.
We were supposed to be dancers, astronauts shooting for the stars,
I would have held your hair back (puke only goes up in space, doesn't it?)
but the world doesn't stop for me, doesn't stop for you.
I was eating a strawberry cheesecake overlooking Lake Ontario,
and you were probably baking, wearing your favorite rose-printed apron
by the Eiffel, by Lotte World, when we got the first notice,
but there were JIRA tickets to create, daily stand-ups to attend.
The comet hit the moon, and then the moon moved, so the water rushed
everywhere, and then London Bridge fell, and you were one of those who were—
But this is okay, because when I upload my memories,
everything is the same as before, back to when we were—
I tell myself that there are no faults, we can’t control the
galaxy, and in this game of thorns, some flowers end up
hurting me when I prick my fingers, trying to reach for you,
innocently.