Annette Lin, class of 2025
for y.
I only want to remember through green glass, uncut
hair trembling under neon lights, pupils engorged
with refraction or regret, bossa nova, midsummer,
sunflowers. In the warm evening, we giggled
through the garbage sequel of a perfectly good film.
I wanted to cry when it was over; that’s how bad it was.
I only want to remember in transience because
the single worthwhile souvenir d’enfance is a hunger-
splashed photograph of a seaside sunset. In the shot,
contrails congeal in waxy streaks on a suffocating sky
& the cove is a bruised fist losing its grip. The waves
shriek the riff from Starless. You ask what it’s like
to miss you & I say warm, pungent kombucha. I catch
a broken cowrie shell at the edge of the frame & extort
from its dust a metaphor for moving on. It’s September
again, which means the salt-laced breeze smells like
forgiveness & that I am in the mood for it, too. Maybe
tomorrow, the rain will force me into a sandy coffee shop,
Paul Anka crooning The Cure on the radio. Queueing
next to me, you’ll ask why they turned The Lovecats
into swung jazz and I’ll pretend not to notice that
his cover cuts my favorite line—we missed you, hissed
or we missed, you hissed. I’ll fall freely into you
& laugh at your vulgarities because everything
looks warm tinted emerald with longing. Maybe
tomorrow, I will not need this aubade.
i love mornings! you'd be surprised how much they can change your perspective on things.