Severance Package (Leaving Los Angeles)
we had the morning
that follows
hangovers−
where strange fellows;
wake up−
in each other’s arms.
kept warm by
desert moonlights
in delayed shivers−
& wander through
shattered memories
in search of the back stories.
I touch my chest
& feel a pulse that
trembles off-key;
What did I drink?
How did I get so far
from home?
& how do I leave a place
that so many leave
unnoticed, unnoticed?
I ask you your name,
you offer me an audition−
I tell you my name,
you offer me a better one
for theater billboards−
I share my story,
you offer me a gift card
for the dark room of my desires.
The dotted lines never end.
Instead we agree to let the
California sun darken the skin
on my bare back;
& sterilize the truth
from the true;
& never speak again.
By Mark Anthony Thomas
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