Games to the Mind ✔

Looking back on bad habits

In high school, I used to crawl

past my dad’s side of the bed so I could whisper,

at midnight, to my mom that I was leaving 

and going to your place, and that I’d be back

by five in the morning, because I was that good girl

in the knee-high socks with the headband

that matched my uniform. So, I told my mom

that I was going over, watched her sleepy eyes

drift back to her pillow corner. I’d start my car,

put on that sappy John Mayer song you hate, 

but know I love, and head through the center of town

on the ghost roads, driving like a memory

with four wheels and only three more miles to go. 

You’d let me in the back door, careful not to shut the door

to the kitchen too tight, and we’d kiss

under the aquarium light. 

I’d watch the shatters

of light split with the blades of your ceiling fan

as you’d remind me over and over again

with your words that I couldn’t stay long

while your hands pulled me in closer to your chest. 

You were the first bad thing I let myself have. 

I’d have to leave before your dad would get up for work,

so I’d pull on my sweatpants, wipe the makeup

from beneath the crease of my eyes, kiss you goodbye

for who knew how long it would be that time, and I’d cry

in the car the whole way home

because I knew that we were like grains of sand

in an hourglass

just waiting for our turn to fall.