there's a girl in front of me saying that i am a poet

where i've been lately

“How are you? How is your wonderful bathroom? How are the books you read and the things you think? Your dogs and their lives? The weather? Your feelings?”

― Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters

me when i’m working too much

I have been absent here because my two serving jobs have captured my body and mind, then held them for ransom. I reach for creativity and it feels infinitely far away. The distance is a flavour that never leaves my tongue.

Writing feels inaccessible because all of my energy is spent trying to survive. Something beautiful happened yesterday though, at work of all places.

I was on my tenth hour of waitressing on Mother’s Day, first was brunch at one of the fanciest restaurants in the city, followed by afternoon tea service, and afterwards at a busy vegan restaurant until late.

I approached a table of two, and as i filled their waters and prepared to recite my server intro spiel for the ten thousandth time that day — the girl lounging in the hammock chair swing said: