I’m the girl who picks the tattered, grandpa-worn flannel over the new one Because it always seems to keep me warmer on winter days.
If you come with me to Walmart
I’ll hunt down a Crayola box
Open it and touch its chiseled teeth Take in the scent of new, waxy pigment Just waiting to be spread across a page.
I can’t stand a lonely cookie
So I usually pair it with myself.
Show me a good movie
And I’ll show you an even better book
I’ll probably lend you my copy so you can read it too Dog-earring the pages I like most
So that when you’re snuggling in your worn flannel You can pay close attention to the best parts.
I sit in parking lots to finish great songs
Or master the Hamilton line I’ve been practicing for weeks Then I’ll be singing in my head all day long
And the other voices in my head will join in.
I peel oranges slowly,
Breathing in their fragrant mist
Letting each drop refresh my tired mind.
Sometimes, I’ll add extra dish soap to a sponge And watch bubble mountains form in coffee mugs Old grinds spill over and wash down the drain And the warm water runs clear.