ignition
Alyssa Cressotti
1
I see you watching. I’m trying to be subtle in my performance but we both know I’m a liar.
Well, shit. Say something.
2
I think about the girl you fucked down south on your grandmama’s couch. She’s married now. Not to you.
She thinks about it, too.
3
If I die, I want to haunt the streets I roamed as a kid, as a young lady, as a woman.
I want little girls to play Bloody Mary, but with hubcaps and coffee cups.
4
There was a lot of nervous energy that night. It’s what happens when grown people play kiddie games.
You want me to say, don’t you? Always.
5
I haven’t seen you in a few years, but the digital approximation of your face is enough to conjure you in dreams and in silent moments. During rides down long stretches of road.
6
We hurt each other. You more than me, but hurt just the same, nonetheless.
I warned you. I told you that if you kept talking, I might get used to hearing nice words from bad boys.
7
My heart is more than the stone of a fruit. More than the peach pit you whiled around, more than its clacking against your teeth.
More than the swipe of spit up the back of your forearm.
8
If you came back, I wouldn’t even know what to do with you.
What do I feed you? Do I need to take you for walks? Are you even crate-trained?
9
I dunno if you’ve noticed, but the world is ending.
Should we get coffee?
Alyssa Cressoti is a writer, editor, and media maker in New York City. With a cup of coffee and an eye-roll, Alyssa channels classic Bea Arthur (if Dorothy Zbornak spent her daylight hours cooing at baby animals being cute on the Internet). She wavers between fierce sarcasm and sweet, girlish charm; her nails will be painted, but she is not to be taken lightly. Additionally, she plays caregiver to one fat rabbit. Her published work includes profiles, reportage, feature stories, Q&As, book reviews, poetry, and fiction.