The kale bunches, thick-skulled and Germanic,
Green as envy. Eight dollars, ninety-nine
For what Aurelia pulled free
From Wellesley soil. I buy three bundles of virtue
That will blacken like the bell jar.

If I was a horse,
I’d be, like… into horse stuff.
Running, probably.
Or standing still in a field,
which seems like a big part of it.
Eating grass?
Yeah, definitely eating grass.

My bath bucket knows too much.
It has witnessed every version of me—
the young body, the unsure body,
the body that believed in future,
and the one renegotiating its terms.

or perhaps a very small and angry god
with an affinity for socks and unprovoked violence.

Vast, incomprehensible, and depressing, the Hurry Up and Wait is the perfect way to kill time on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Untime your blues, shave seconds off your five o’ clock shadow, or haggle a kiss away and trade it for an hour on a hot stove: This classic cocktail has it all.