"Sweat" by Brooke Wrisley

I really used to love you,

October.

You were a chance to slow down,

to drown

in gray afternoons and

rain against the window.

Birthdays and candy.

The ghosts of summer

washed away.

Like a distant relative

met once as a child,

you tell me how small I was

the last time we met but

I barely remember.

I really used to love you,

California.

Even though

you didn’t love me.

I was in you.

I am of you.

& I’m still trying

to climb out of you,

you dried up thing.

I could -

(maybe) -

love you both

again.

Or else,

I’m trying to.

But in my bones I feel

the difference.

The deepest wrinkles

of my brain know.

They cannot forget

the change in you.

And then the sweating

sets in again.