nothing but information, this:

an emotional patriotism

an insult to their hospitality

and the time it took to

gasp and sigh

cutting the air so

afraid to be weak, intricate.

a blue dodge caravan

and newly dreadlocked friends’

cool passivity

but no longer the backseat

of the jeep when i was sixteen

and leah was more beautiful

and big-boned

without a baseball cap and

picking out cologne, i didn’t know

the colour of his hair.

tokyo in august was constant

rain and dark wet local girls

while hollywood was a messy blur

smoke, sweet tooth

and a few bags of sour cherries

watermelons, two boston creams

and a toothache. no game

handicapped at thirteen, legal

at sixteen, at least in quebec.

the beach would never leave

but i say please and thank-you

eleven times, glaring under

black frames and sharp nails

and strangers misunderstanding.

a woman sings opera into her phone

too early for opera

and the practiced professor

in the panopticon of eyes

you talkin’ to me?

you talkin’ to me?

that eye found me

intensely looking back

uttering, damning, exorcizing

me the summer i was 24

her frail book

the only book

she ever bought me.

something unspeakable

about her wasting my books

my beer, my presence

and her disruptive aunts

between mouthfuls

like a bird

my skirt

pulled down to hide my shame.

[From all Nonfiction Students, Summer 2014]