Breakroom Cemetery

“I’m so edgy. I spend my lunch breaks at the cemetery.” I announced as I sat down.

“What the hell, Liz, that’s so weird.” Lily’s sweet voice was low and soft as if it could mitigate the boisterous tone of mine. 

“Weren’t you the one who carried rose quartz all throughout eighth grade because,” I drew quotation marks in the air, “it would bring you your soulmate. That’s odd and cringe.”

Lily blushed, “I was going through a phase. Eighth grade was 5 years ago anyway. It’s not like it matters. I mean, I just like collecting stones, okay? That’s not weird, you are. I’m going to report you to HR for harassment.”

“Woah, wait, you’re the one calling me weird, Lil. I was joking, chill. I tried finding your soulmate, too, but your standards are held in Mount Olympus. I’ve been watching that demi-god show – with the dyslexic kids of gods and mortals becoming heroes. I want a t-shirt.”

“You should read the books, but I know you won’t. Anyway, what were you saying about the cemetery?”

“Oh I thought you said it was weird?”

“It’s not normal to do that during a half-hour break. It’s not even a particularly pretty cemetery either. How’d you get inside?”

“On the side there’s a gate, you can’t see it from the front parking lot. It’s super heavy, probably made with lead, and, well, there was a lock but it was so rusty that it fell the first time I barely touched it. It’s a Civil War era cemetery. The youngest grave I found is from 1868, a baby boy who was born two years prior. “

“That’s really sad, but don’t tell me you’ve heard crying or felt some unnatural presence.”

“I wish, but that cemetery won’t be getting a visit from ghost hunters anytime soon.”

I paused, biting my lower lip before continuing, “I’ve been cleaning up some of the graves, but I’ve been selecting the graves by certain criteria. Like if it’s a kid, I’ll clean it. If their epitaph is interesting, I’ll clean it. Is it wrong of me to pick and choose which graves I clean up like that?”

Lily stared incredulously at me for a few seconds.

I stared back before adverting my gaze.

“It’s not some deep thing. It’s like, I saw some earthworms and ladybugs and those people have been dead so long that now they’re only bones and stones, but the worms and ladybugs are alive. But it’s for me not them, but not really because I hate worms and collect ladybugs in jars until they suffocate. It’s just that I’ve been thinking how the computer screen we stare at all day sometimes looks like a gravestone.”

“Liz, I’m not really sure what you’re saying but my fifteen minute break is almost over,” Lily pushed back her seat and started standing.

“Wait! I picked this up for you on the grave of a fallen Union soldier. The stone looks pink. Here,” I grabbed her hand, “carry it. I know it’s not quartz but maybe this time it’ll work.” 

Lily blushed again.

I turned around and stared at the highway from that second floor break room as Lily walked out the door. 

Amalfi Coast

Love was a concept he donated

only in the summer.

He’d paid for the devil’s aid,

Now the heat, Hadean escape. 

Pretty face, locked gaze.

Sentiero dei Limoni.

The sun picked her through rays.

The days, the days!

They lived under a bittersweet haze.

He knew the path was paved in the darkest asphalt.

She claimed asphalt-paths were made for Vespas. 

He had a debt due,

an aching feeling tearing dried glue

of a closed wound.

His heart starts beating even as it’s fleeting. 

Love was a concept she gave

only that summer.

She ate rotting lemons 

and threw out lingering costs.

When he returned,

he tore the truth and it blew 

across the sea to Bizerte.

Pink

She always finds treasure in the trash,

in the back of vintage stores, 

and the racks of charities.

It’s exclusive.

Don’t tell anyone,

the lace was wrought of dying worms.

The rocks she holds

are not gemstones. 

Four bucks. 

She grows tired seeking out what makes her high

Low, low growth 

seen in her company’s stocks

She finds treasure but stays hush

It’ll only collect dust.

A girl in her prime

becomes forgotten by the clock.

Chance and Choice

It’s better this way

– apart –

Two souls thrown together by chance

Kept divided by choice

I can’t keep you

You will never know

How I struggle

As I let you go

The gentleness of your eyes fades in the distance

I forget so much

Yet you stay

You consumed me

You owned me

– and for that –

We could never be