poetry by Kari Lynch


We were in Blockbuster when the ecstasy kicked in. We left without renting anything and drove around until the sun came up listening to Enya and you said that was what heaven must sound like and that we are probably closer to god right now than we ever will be and I said yes! but I hoped being close to god didn’t feel this dirty. We were sitting at a red light when you said we are the happiest people on these streets right now! And I said yes! and I felt like I was in a movie when the man in the sedan next to us glanced at each other. I wonder if it looked like a tragedy or a comedy to him. I wonder if he felt sorry for me. I felt sorry for him. I did not know then of elation that you cannot buy. We went back to your house and got under the blankets because rolling always makes me so cold. You pressed up against me to warm you up you said. I didn’t know how to say that I just wanted to be home. I didn’t want any of that. I did not want any of that.


Kari Lynch

Kari Lynch is a writer and teacher from Texas. She is only sure of two things in this life: dogs are better than most people and writing can save your life.