Thank you for downloading this Simon & Schuster ebook.

Get a FREE ebook when you join our mailing list. Plus, get updates on new releases, deals, recommended reads, and more from Simon & Schuster. Click below to sign up and see terms and conditions.

CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP

Already a subscriber? Provide your email again so we can register this ebook and send you more of what you like to read. You will continue to receive exclusive offers in your inbox.

Dedication

Dedicated to whomever’s worn, warm afternoon hands come upon these pages—wherever you may find them—and that you may remember that the world is conspiring for you and to act in a manner as such.

Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass

I went to a party

I came in hot

made decisions beforehand

my mind made up

things that would make me happy

to do them or not

each option weighed quietly

a plan for each thought

But then i walked through the door

past the open concept

and saw Violet

bent backwards over the grass

7 years old with dandelions grasped

tightly in her hands

arched like a bridge in a fallen handstand

grinning wildly like a madman

with the exuberance that only doing nothing can bring

waiting for the fireworks to begin

and in that moment

i decided to do nothing about everything

forever.

Bare feet on linoleum

Stay on your path Sylvia Plath

don’t fall away like all the others

Don’t take all your secrets alone to your watery grave about

lovers and mother

The secrets you keep will keep you in deep like father and Amy

and brother

And all of the people you meet on the street will reiterate lies

that she uttered

Leave me in peace I cry

late at night on a slow boat bound for Catalina for no reason

tiny beads of sweat dot my forehead

could be mistaken for dewdrops if this were photo season.

But alas this is a real life - and it’s been a real fight just to

keep my mind from committing treason.

Why you ask?

Because she told the townspeople I was crazy and the lies they

started to believe them

But anyway - I’ve moved on now

And now that I’ve gone scorched-earth

I’m left wondering where to go from here.

To Sonoma where the fires have just left?

South Dakota?

Would standing in front of Mount Rushmore feel like the Great

American homecoming I never had?

Would the magnitude of the scale of the sculpture take the place

of the warm embrace I’ve never known?

Or should I just be here now

In the kitchen

Bare feet on linoleum

Bored - but not unhappy

Cutting vegetables over boiling water that I will later turn

into stew.

What happened when I left you