Written on the cardboard
for the cooks
for the food
for my break
I feel time is an odd vertebrate
An hour to sit with myself
in the back parking lot
in the town I was born
Taken through a portal
to childhood memories
framework of the gear in a machine
oiled by butter and garlic
One day I cashed out
a girl who used to curl my eyelashes
in the bathroom
of the seventh grade halls
We just glazed over
without an interaction of acknowledgement
I find it strange
the intimacies we once shared
Kail Anderson 