Le Flame

it’s not all Bee Gees covers 
and reverse-spaghetti dinners,
rock ’n’ roll, or whatever it’s called,
is vain in my veins.

I am still stuck in the amulet,
when the cops come
and suggest you throw 
it in the background of a river. 

social media does not
defend our definitions
of what forever should 
taste like in a Tuesday text.

when I touch down,
I hope she is waving behind bangs,
under a Coyote Blood hoodie,
wearing weird shoes. 

every kitchen smells different
and that's the damndest thing,
that no one ever talks about,
so let's talk about it.