I do not take a drink

ANNMARIE O’CON­NELL

Room Magazine - - NAGRA -

He strokes my hair awk­wardly.

I get blind­sided by an ever­last­ing joy.

I won­der if his mother ran through all the rooms look­ing for cig­a­rettes. I won­der if her heart was so cold the win­dows shut them­selves.

Right now noth­ing stirs in me. I pilot the plane. I wait sev­eral sec­onds. Right now ev­ery­thing stirs in me. I pilot the plane. His se­cret life throbs in my hand. I do not take a drink. I find out his other girl­friend is rich.

It’s like we live in two other worlds.

She says I have a 63rd street ed­u­ca­tion. Some­times she calls me sweet­heart. I have never stud­ied in Hong Kong. I have never left the coun­try. I wanted to go to Iraq. My dad said I will kill you my­self. 63rd street ed­u­ca­tion. I pilot the plane. Hav­ing sur­vived so much

I am fully armed and rid­ing alone. I put my fist against some­thing imag­ined. I wait sev­eral sec­onds. I do not take a drink. I put my fist among stars.

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