Here’s the thing:
it seems I was made to be broken
and my allure is an impossible fix,
what with longevity, inflation, and el niño.
If only I could stop
long enough mid-dervish
to thank him- where else could I learn
how to break free while heartbroken,
how all roads lead to an end?

I will forever couch my emotions
in rocky metaphors
and I will henceforth read weather forecasts
like a tragic romance.