August 17th, 2014


I forget to respond to you
Late August, Vancouver cools
a dry that starts to crumple and fade

you’re in California getting a tan, driving
one hand on the wheel through the inland empire
you get such a kick out of that

I’m too serious, all jokes aside
it’s too easy to imagine you as a child
shoes polished and alone

you want air conditioning
a daughter who writes

someone didn’t tell you
how to remedy guilt, how it sparks hot off shame
how dangerous it is in this kind of heat

I want to wake up kind
it’s all we talk about lately
our parents and the weather