all mechanics have the same handwriting
it sags to the right and the A's are more like n's
wearing loose belts
and there's something about it that makes me think of you
and i can smell the gasoline under your fingernails
you wrote i love you on a piece of paper once
pinned it beneath a pen on the kitchen table
and your love was a jungle of capitals and lowercases
all sprawled against the white like a sloppy embrace
i collapsed on the paper but didn't hear your heartbeat
i think you've carved something into the walls by now
maybe on the cinderblocks next to your bed
when your hands are feeling idle and the lights are still on
counting the days, maybe the years
remembering the children you abandoned
but then
can you even spell my name?
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