succession

 

the woman I love is sleeping somewhere
                               helplessly

taco salad,
satisfyingly messy and
looking across the desk at
                 condescension

I remember the friday afternoon you told me
I would never be a success
                                         ful poet

with so much salt on my tongue
success is a word
undetermined,

not like you and I
    determined
    to make sense of things,
but existing for itself
and somehow better for it

    small acts of kindness –
taco salad on a paper plate gone soft,
words misspelled in an letter between
people who do not stand on ceremony

but rather determination,
odd prayers for success

and, you
on the mend
again