A Truck Driver Broke My Heart

She was a belching truck driver who crushed Five-hour Energy drinks and hearts. Driving with her from one pitstop to another, I watched as liquid stress perspired from her forehead like sweaty rain. The biggest mistake I made was thinking I could be her destination. I ain’t looking for no stack of bricks out of you good buddy, that’s not me, she said, while gas station taquito chunks from inside her mouth showered the car’s floor. I painted a portrait to see her for who she really is and confront the truth of our relationship. I thought I would begin to hate her for her attitude or become turned off by remembering the yellow armpit stains on her white t-shirts. Strangely, I basked in the brilliance of her shamelessness and was left captivated just like before. My lips and heart are still throbbing from the slap she delivered after I called her a Lot Lizard and the indifferent way in which she spoke about what her and I never had. I can’t stop myself from wondering whether she’s paying the water bill, reading the mail, or roaming Wally World to trick another poor man into thinking she’s interested and he’s enough.

Into the Wild

New Years Eve in a private bar was unexplored territory for 16-year-old me in a turtleneck. I pretended to enjoy the foamy beer I poured myself and observed human nature around me like I was a photographer for National Geographic. Hyenas laughed in circles, apes hurled balls into cups, and wolves stalked the foxes and howled sloppily. While drunkenly stumbling onto the snowy ground and trying not to fall into my own piss, a sacred countdown lit the bar ablaze with what sounded like a Pentecostal service being held at the end of the world. Inside I found my best friend’s lips waiting with anticipation and plunged into the wild and a new year at once.

trailer trash

Mom came home angry, saying,

a man at the bar called us trailer trash.

The kids sheepishly gathered for her ted talk

where, with thrashing arms and a voice that boomed

she orchestrated a thunderous presentation

on why our friends never sleep over at our place.

We toured a big, empty house years later

and cringed at the way it made us feel like

we were nothing. Shame became empathy

for everyone who grew up feeling small and contained

in a home that never felt full.

How To Pray

Swear like a sailor. Use your normal voice.

Articulate your pain or let out a loud sigh.

Dare to believe someone is really listening.

Be heard.

Extend your arms out and take up space

like a patch of Earth has been carved out just for you.

Be held.

Breathe deeply and slowly, entering the present moment

that flows uninterrupted like a serene stream.

Be.

Imagine home and run there,

forgiving yourself on the way.

Pay a brain surgeon to remove the word “alone” from your brain

because it’s a cancer.