this time I mean it & Fuck grace marry grace

this time I mean it

I’m going to stop drinking so much spending money on overpriced lunches and coffees buy a printer a new water bottle a slow cooker make all the recipes I’ve pinned quit opening so many tabs start riding my bike everywhere learn to drive Marie Kondo my apartment stop ignoring the moths sew up all the holes get three sweat-smelling dresses dry cleaned handwash things made of lace charge my phone in the kitchen at night get up when my alarm goes off meditate first thing colour mindfully wear my retainer all day drink water before coffee get tested to see whether I’m low iron treat the blood stains on my sheets with salt and lemon deal with the mold under the sink dry brush the dead skin from my arms scrub out my skull with bristles and soap leave clean bones forget everyone I used to love play hard to get boil oranges and cinnamon light all the candles stop making wishes being so fucking awkward all the time smile at coworkers I dislike ask myself if it’s true necessary kind write my grandmother a letter go to aerobics once and for all stop walking in the woods with you calling you a cunt when I’m drunk at night if it’s the last thing I do on this earth I’m going to stop texting you and this time I mean it.

Fuck grace marry grace

In the San Antonio Hooters we
fucked married and killed: faith hope
grace. Everywhere holy families 

rocking babies over buffalo chicken
dip and lots-a-tots. In the booth at
the IHOP we ate pancakes 

made of icing and sprinkles till we felt
sick. Huge rainforest cafe elephants
flapped animatronic ears and I sucked 

pink alcoholic slush through a thousand plastic
straws, spooned up the dregs, licked all the sugar
from the glass, bought seven mini pinatas 

and a bath bomb full of peace, love, and rose quartz
rock, a sequined bag. Imagine my luck imagine my
luck. At the Alamo 

huge orange fish swam slowly, glinting
like coins and I wanted an impossible
thing, to catch one in my arms 

grasp its slippy skin with my hands. The gift
store sold fudge and plastic guns but I just bought
a pretty hat. Later, it skittered away from me 

into the street but a stranger returned it as we were
running to find the liquor store ten minutes before
close, following the Google Maps 

dot. It wasn’t where it was supposed to be and
then it was too late. We stood at the edge of
the neon river gleaming with boats, streams 

of melted light, unafraid of falling
in 

walked through a tunnel of birdsong and it
turned out it was art. Touched fingertips 

in the same bag of flamin’ hot dill
pickle chips. Over sliders we talked
about other people’s bad luck, the time 

K walked through a tunnel in
Europe and emerged right before the
train came through, thank god 

thank god. I passed a church that said
Jesus, Our Redeemer, is coming real
soon, and I couldn’t breathe 

I laughed so hard. My mom said we
should take a cab. The Uber driver told
us to drink Gatorade when we woke 

up. We were a lot younger then three
weeks ago, and drunk. I thought we
deserved every good thing 

tie dye shot glasses and crazy straws
sliced lime margarita rims, the sun
on our baby warm skin, thought 

we had perfect vision in our
pink heart-shaped sunglasses,
touched by nothing 

but the grace of god.