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Tiny Brains

Posted on by SHE'S IN PRISON

Tiny Brains It was a Sunday night, the day before Labor Day. We laid on the ground outside of the bowling alley. She sat on the curb first. I mimicked her artistry, knees crumpling, muscles oozing like jelly, slinking to the ground in a glob until I’d surpassed sitting and settled on horizontal stargazing. We played out the therapy session, a cement couch counting the justifications— why I texted him, why she felt betrayed— we vomited honesty, beer-numbed confessions of hearts the size of our confusion, the hearts that led us to fall on our backs in a parking lot and brains too small to sit on a bench.

Katie, this one’s for you.

I’ve gathered from my Facebook newsfeed that Monday was rough. Too many hearts and brains are fighting. Thank God it’s Tuesday, folks. Call a truce, and then celebrate with pancakes.

–Leanne Rebecca

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Poetry and music.

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