- to A. Stevens
Go back to a time where you and I
were close. Go back to the late nights
of 1980s horror and modern
zombies. A time where the smell of cigarettes
meant friendship and a night of sharing rum.
I pretended I wasn’t allergic to cats
just to see you. Go back to a time
where you and I would write meaningless
lyrics and play Mortal Kombat upside down
until eyes stung and minds fogged,
the world forever spinning. Sharing a mattress
for the night, reading graphic novels
until the morning sun told us it was time
to sleep off the exhaustion. Too much
liquor was in your system and
words spewed with affection like a broken
faucet that I adored. Go back. Those 4am
conversations that were made up of
falsely autocorrected words. Sleep
deprived laughter and becoming the zombies
you and I would watch on the small, flat
screen TV, if only for that day.
Go back to a time, when you still lived
close to me, and not across the country.
You had casually mentioned it one day
not expecting me to be upset
so I wasn’t – not to your face.
Go back to when you and I
were close. When you are I were like
brother and sister and I still had you
as a friend.