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"dead best friend" by jonny bolduc



i

know dreams are your

house parties.


i am

like a teenager stealing

mom’s vodka, getting

wasted for the first time.


you walk without striding, you

leap from dream to dream

and shadow to shadow.


i follow, but i haven’t quite

learned to walk without legs,

how to live in the abstraction.


“try to keep up,” you say

as you drag me into your

old kitchen.


everything

is how i remember. captain crunch

on the counter.

you open the fridge

and grab a cold piece of pizza.

your dog

leaps up on my leg and i scratch him

between the ears.


your dog is dead too.


“let’s make a deal,” you say,

turning to me. “i’ll teach you

how to walk through a dream,

if you let me remember what it is

like to walk barefoot in the sand.


i will teach you how to breath

without breath if you let me take

a deep draw of air.”

i’m about to answer, i’m

about to say


i will, i’d do

anything to trade places,

to have you here

sipping coffee,


and i wake up

to a siren wailing

outside




jonny is a poet from maine and yes he is sad.

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