I Miss You So So Much

by Alexander Fatato

Read by the author with music by Dimitri Giannopolous

I aimed a radar gun at a bullet
and read your social security number in miles per hour.

You told me about the secret tipping percentage used only by service workers
and your collection of murdered baseball player rookie cards.

You planted a victim’s branch and watched it grow friends.

Now I squint in the dark, seeing the figure at the end of the bed
for what it is: shadow work inimical to equilibrium.

I am retroactively rationalizing a gut rudder direction.
You are an insurance company’s baseball cap concealing a mohawk.

A broken jaw, perfectly symmetrical.
We were punk ethicists citing the bible.

We were roaches backpedaling up a chrome hallway.
We were a broken bone vacation.

The sky looks bigger in the middle
of the country because it has to.

Alexander Fatato lives in Boston, where he’s a teacher, musician, and writer.

>>next>>