—IF I HAD A FACE LIKE THAT, I’D NEVER LOVE NO ONE ELSE

 

Thrifting

Let’s go thrifting and find a store that sells used hearts and broken pulse points. We can compare colors and beat times, talk about Grandma Ruthie’s necklace that fell off its clasp and your neck straight into the garbage disposal and made a ruckus for months on end, very much like a heart that just wants someone to finally hear it. 

I’ll hang around while you try on plaid exoskeletons and waxed eyelid replicas of celebrities, but I promise I won’t say how goofy and strange you look staring into the mirror with that sprig of lettuce or avocado in your teeth. I might not be able to stop from grinning when you open the hope chest filled with scrolls they’ve recovered from Vesuvius. 

And if you’re not tuckered out after that, we can set up our own garage sale right out there on the lawn like in that Carver story I can never let go of, them kids so you in love but broken up and unable to hold onto the remnants of a future that could have been a past they could have had, that maybe we’d have read about in the hope chest we landed on that weekend we had nothing else to do and went thrifting.