as sure as my mother’s knowing.
my head wants to cry and my eyes won’t let it happen. the woman beside me smells like cupcakes. the light is too bright, the windows are too open, and the woman beside me who smells like cupcakes is describing the dream she had about the big house and the sunroom. i do not picture big comfy chairs where my skin can sink. i see a pool warm enough for these cold august nights. i see a kiss on the temples where the pain likes to sit. the woman beside me who smells like cupcakes is gone and i am thinking about her dirty skirt 