and perhaps i should learn to only focus on things that truly make me happy.
like the first christmas we spent together,
wine drunk off gas station rosé
eating mcdonald’s naked on our futon,
just relaxing,
not really doing anything important,
as the water pipes in the bathroom
screeched over a tv rerun of elf,
making it impossible to hear will ferrell slurp his candy-laced spaghetti.
i remember that night and how i stole your soggy fries
and stuck them up my nose to show you what i would look like
if i had a virus that turned all my snot into potato wedges.
at first you said nothing.
then
outta nowhere
you did the same exact thing.
we laughed until none of it made sense anymore
and the french fries became too cold to eat.
too bad all the videos from that moment are now erased,
forever lost on a digital cloud of technological nothingness,
or wherever that shit goes when it dies.
who knows.
***
Shawn Berman plays a mean air guitar. Some of his work has appeared in Hobart, Maudlin House, and Little Old Lady Comedy. You can follow him on Twitter @Sbb_writer.
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image: Jesse Hilson
Rejection Letters 