12.02.22
08:30
we had one scorched pot we cooked everything in, crushing roma tomatoes with the applied force of the back of a wooden spoon, as you tell me about Montreal's bloom- applying salt liberally, and sometimes you wrap a French tongue around coveted Italian teeth, and bleed Portuguese on the cutting slab; deep crimson wells like stick on jewels bubbling out from the wound, ti voglio bene
the wet cough of the leaky gas stove where the left front burner sputtered and clicked like a death rattle in the throat of a milky eyed goat, but nothing. Cream tile cracked and sagging, dusty brown umbrella capped mushrooms breeding under the shower stall where we packed ourselves in like tin sardines- pulling on the aluminum tab to plunge starving fingers inside,
ti voglio bene
the translucent ochre of frozen eggs, the fire alarm ripped from the ceiling because of its screeching, the stiffened deadbolt, methane shook free from the horse hair plaster, the mysterious reappearance of the hot pink vibrator; knotted in linen; bumbling on the concrete of the laundromat across the feet of someone's greying Titia, and the bedlam of our barefaced laughter
ti voglio bene
/// feels like it's been awhile but i am sure it's nothing crazy. can't remember the last time i wrote. anyway, fun fact ti voglio bene is an italian term my nonna taught me to tell her every time we meet and we parted. so... yeah.
cheers.