In Memoriam to Josephine

I know they say dogs are a human’s best friend but since I was sixteen, my best friend has been my forest green ford explorer, Josephine.

When I got her, she already had decent mileage on her. She also shook a little on the highway and had already suffered a few engine problems since her 2001, production. I never cared. All I cared about was that I had this car who played music, transported my friends, and took me to the beach whenever I wanted.

Over the years, Josephine and I went on even more grand adventures. We trekked all over Florida, from the Everglades to the panhandle. We saw beaches and beach houses. We even got to see New Orleans together.

Josephine knew all my favorite songs. In all of her scattered compartments and consoles, CDs overflowed. Because she only had a standard factory radio, nobody could plug in an aux cord for music. Instead, music was powered by the people in the car. Many of the CDs in Josephine were made by friends and family, often featuring personalized Sharpie cover art.

Sure, there were times her battery died. I’ll never forget sitting on the side of a desolate country road, waiting for the kind people of triple A to arrive (hopefully) before nightfall to replace a popped tire.

I also could never forget in her later years, when her volume dial started working in reverse. I found great amusement in watching visitors trying to turn down the volume, only to be horrified by blaring music.

Towards the end of her years, her side window had a stylish adornment of duct tape holding it in place. The turn signal began malfunctioning in such a way that the driver would have to manually flip the switch up and down in order to activate the blinkers.

It was then that Josephine’s grandparents decided it was her time for used car heaven.

Not only did my friends and I have a send-off party for her. We mourned her loss for our final two months of college. To this day, we think back on the way she felt so safe, how she carried such deep, liberating laughter. We joyfully sigh to each other, “Rest in peace.”


a first love’s residue

if i could manipulate tectonics,
i’d fracture the monuments you built from me,
rip them from my ribs, find the wishbone, boil it all in magma
i want to polarize this, trap you in chains of binaries
take you beyond my peripheral, hold you against the light
& see the way history draws portraits of your skin

maybe twist our veins into tightropes,
and string them through that steady tidal basin
which never seems to move

or stop, maybe forget it all,
dive into ancient anger
let tension lap us up,
a reel of desperation,
a liberation, no, it’s called regression.

all truly a wasteland:
broken synapses and disbelief
type font and thievery
lavender extract
grainy stationary
the crease of a letter
sometimes i dream of coming to you
locating all our silence,
i imagine begging
along the shores of the lethe
or wishing for a tourniquet or at least
some way to reattach leaves to a tree

but we both know an avalanche
never arranges back to snowflakes

my dear, we’re lost so deeply
i’m not sure how to put you away