By: Alyssa Trivett

We sit in our pill-bottles,
dormant like vampires
during daytime laundry cycles,
scurrying away from our own heads
with running thoughts ceiling fan spinning
above us.
Lawnmowers in front of me shake,
hardware store paint cans.
The horizon wakes up,
envying our constant desire for movement.
A camouflage vested man,
standing in the dentist office parking lot
waves the leaf blower, his surface hairdryer.
Does he want to be seen, or not?
I didn’t have a chance to ask him,
for the few seconds we knew each other.
Gates up.
Next phase, begin.