and then texts me a meme
even though I am sitting right next to her,
then she turns to me and asks about the names
tattooed on my body,
and I tell her they are characters
from a story, which is true-ish.
The only reason I am here
at this pre-party for a Netflix is a Joke after party
is because she blew me right before
in the back of the library—
the Venice Beach branch—
where Turek checks out his Russian literature
and a hobo camp blocks the entrance.
A nepo baby with nothing to lose,
she gets drunk and acts a fool,
and everyone looks to me to do something,
but I try with my eyes to tell them all
that I just met her and she will only be
in my life through Memorial Day weekend.
These are the vapid moments I miss Kendra Jean most,
and I wonder if she is kicking it in Louisville with her folks,
but when you're three boogies in
and her beverage is different than yours,
making her put her hand on yours,
you can't help but yawp it up with a smooch,
and the promise to worry about the regret tomorrow.
Life is still loud sometimes
and I can't tell if that is a good thing
or a bad thing, or a benign thing
because nothing matters anyway
since we're all gonna die one day,
so you might as well fly to LA
for a fling to kick off the summer,
and move further away from the past.