Horoscope

O apricot jam, O Hoover Dam, 

can can, disco fan. Do you remember

that pizza place with the cheesy 

pun for a name back in Boulder?

I love the way piping hot pizza

burns the roof of your mouth 

when you’re trying to be patient. 

We eat cherries and talk 

about how everyone’s a zionist, 

how white queers took Boulder over

for the sake of diversity, 

told us “our God” 

wasn’t one they believed in. 

It didn't matter to us, anyway. 

We love sweat and salt and sleepiness,

turquoise, coral, sweet-sweet mint tea.

O leg hair, O paper tear, bird in the bay 

sneeze, snot in the tree breeze. I find it 

redundant, haven’t honestly missed anything

save for lemons, olive oil, sun in months.