i love him
when he calls me
drunk
from playa de carmen
it’s hot here
you’re hot
i’m sorry
you have to see this
same as i loved him
that night
on a new jersey beach
manhattan lights
glinting over
oil-slick water
our city
only a river
& a reality away
we threw pennies
from the
staten island ferry
& promised
to come back
together
but he’s not the boy
that talked about
our tribeca apartment
anymore
who needs a
real kitchen
this close to
hell’s kitchen
we would’ve
washed t-shirts
peeled carrots
scrubbed dishes
in the bathroom sink
kraft mac & cheese
domestication
until we paid off
student loans
& made something
of ourselves
now he’s all
bloody nosed
car crashes
skipping class
i still let him
drive me home
it’s midnight
screaming down i-5
i’m not afraid
to die together
the inevitability of
living apart
is worse
fourteen-year-old me
sits in the backseat
incredulous
at what we’ve become
but someday
he’ll want more
a screened-in patio
wrapping around
his old southern house
gin & tonic
sazerac
tom collins
from the bar cart
boiled peanuts
a peach tree family
i can’t give him
any of that
i was raised
for blazers
& business class
my heart beats with
metropolitan inertia
i love him
like i love new york
a useless devotion
not meant to be
acted on
what a waste
of intimacy
to love someone
too much
& not enough
all at once
Amelia Nason is a Next Generation Indie Book Award finalist, a Scholastic Art & Writing Award winner, and an alumna of the Interlochen, Fir Acres, and New York Times summer writing programs. She also edits for Kalopsia Literary Journal. Her work is featured in Ice Lolly Review and Full Mood Mag. When she isn’t writing, Amelia fences competitively and enviously reads the acknowledgements sections of her favorite books. You can find her on Twitter: @amelia_emn.
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