Today I am sick for no reason.
Maybe it’s the altitude. I met someone who said his son is never sick like this at sea level.
But I grew up at a higher altitude than this.
I can’t focus my eyes or my
brain or my
like my body is made of
my brain is made of
my heart is made of
and I didn’t even eat anything that I’m allergic to.
(Last week I ate two corn tortillas,
lovingly hand-patted by a Mexican grandmother, her eyes closed like she did this in a dream, her hands moved rhythmically as she stood over the black stove—
I feel sicker today than I did then,
and I am allergic to corn tortillas.)
There was a girl at my high school,
who I never talked to but saw all the time.
She was cripplingly shy but was always dressed at the height of fashion,
or at least the height of Colorado Springs high school fashion,
as if she thought that she would be able to make friends by
dressing in the
of Colorado Springs high school fashion—
But I only ever saw her alone with her head down,
I’m not even sure if I ever saw her face, I only ever saw her alone with her head down.
I think about this girl every now and then.
I hope she moved on past my dumb high school.
I hope that she found a way to raise her head.
I hope that she found friends.
But I don’t know what her face looks like,
And I have no idea what her name was,
I have no way
(Am I dead? I think i’m dead.)