girls night out

by amy sharp


My best friend is sleeping in the big hotel bed. I'm up puttering around because I never sleep anymore. We met in the fifth grade and I'm convinced that the people who knew us back in the Stand By Me days of life are like spiritual guides in the realm of adulthood. She is part time machine. Built to spill. With one look we can tell stories in the air. We can make time stand still. And I can't really hide much from her because she knows me like a familiar staircase or a shortcut home.
There are things I know just by looking at you she says to me.
And I just nod my head up and down.

She laughs in her sleep.
The air conditioning is loud.
I drink from the ice bucket.
In the tiny crack of morning Ohio light I dress.
And I whisper out into the room all of my secrets.
She takes them into her dream and folds them up for me.
She don't mind. 

 

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