February 2026 - Vol. 23, Issue 1

Third summer of fizzing white

Popping candy all up in my jaw (keep your mouth closed and no one can hear it)

Like a secret tucked high in the pouch of your cheek

Same way we kept pills in the hospital

Or plastic baggies in the street

Sun and seat worn stained corduroy

Makes my fingertips ripple // bad touch // but I keep stroking ‘cause

“Feeling something is better than feeling nothing at all”

Spent four passing seasons black dog clouds and nightmares

Riding to the top of this rollercoaster, clicking of tracks under my feet building to crescendo

I’m bleeding stickiness into my leather jacket

Track.

Clicks.

Here comes the free fall.