Hey, wolf.
Last night, the Uber driver was an old man wearing tie-dye,
just in case you were wondering.
His name was Tom. One of my friends knew his son. He’s a boy scout.
I remembered these small details ‘cause I knew you’d ask about them,
but no, I didn’t see what kind of car he drove –
how sober do you think I was?
Hey, wolf, just in case you were wondering:
I don’t owe you an explanation for anything.
I sent you that text as a courtesy because
you told me not to come home and I figured
even though you’d locked the door on me, you’d still
want to know I wasn’t dead in a ditch.
It’s red-pill-blue-pill with you, and they’re both poison.
Hey wolf, just in case you were wondering
why I drive an hour and come and see you
for only half the day and then leave,
it’s because the Nut House isn’t exactly a prime vacation spot;
it’s because my existence is a timeshare you’ve been squatting in
for twenty-one years and I’d really like my turn, hey wolf,
it’s because when we’re laughing on the phone, I feel safe,
it makes me think maybe, and then we’re driving to the grocery store
and you ask me why the car smells like cigarettes. You ask me
even though you know I quit.
Hey, wolf, I’d explain how hard this is, but you won’t listen.
Hey, wolf, are you choking on that wool yet?
I’m moving to Oregon so when I pull up to the Shell station,
I won’t wonder whether the person pumping my gas
is plotting to blow me up.
One time my neighbor asked why I give you this power, and I said
I don’t give you anything—you buy the matches.
Only you can prevent wildfires.
Hey, wolf, just in case you forgot,
I didn’t ask to be put on this earth, no,
I’m trying to make do with what I’ve been dealt,
so why the fuck do you keep pushing me away?
I’ll tell you something you’re not gonna like.
As I’ve been clinging to this wind-warped raft,
marooned on the cesspool sea of your rage,
barely keeping my chin above the waves,
these waves that feel like they keep getting bigger because
your hot air is melting the ice caps of my joy,
the water’s been working on my sandstone heart,
chipping and smoothing and rounding this hate
into a pearl, a pearl that I’ll cough up
once I drift back to land, perfect polished diamond of soul,
I’ll admire it
over your fucking coffin, wolf,
because you always take credit for the things that I make – hey,
just in case you were wondering?
This one’s mine.
HUNTER LINAR 