I write this letter so you have what you need

To know that I’ve never been one for the dayjob
With my heart so into the art
And, now since, resent myself for failing to avoid some system
Having all this bad taste around corporate ambition
At times, around celebrity, too

Though I wanted to be one

When it’s 30 degrees or higher
I drive around with windows down
Blasting music to nothing so much as danceable
But, still–I do dance
And mouth those soothing words

Kids–I don’t want ‘em
But, as a stepdad of sorts, I could see myself–
Meet me in the elementary school drop-off lane
Waving: Goodbye, have the BEST day EVER!
In a compact SUV

With my mom
Heart was the first concert
Feeling so happy, I remember, standing next to her
Belting those lyrics
At only 16 years old, before things would change

4th grade–was when I started this writing
Never got so much joy out of it
As I do now–this past year
IDK if that spells transcendence–or what
But I’m trying so hard

Still, generally, people annoy me
But I’m more empathetic than you
And I’m getting better about outbursts
Though, still I’ll honk at anyone railing down the freeway
Going 90 or above
Really, it just pisses me off–putting everyone around you
In such danger

And a mental list is what I have of, well–now 19–men
Who, genuinely, I’m happy to have known
Some have fallen off, some have stayed right here
But it’s the sort of experiences, you know, where he leaves
And all of me wants to spill onto the floor in tears
Heaven? IDK–
Might spell transcendence

And my sister, she’s an important figure, too
Taught me to let go a bit
And take care a little more

Still, sometimes, I think
None of this is fucking fair
But, also, I believe there’s a whole lot we can’t control

Yeah, and I believe in love, too
Even after all this time, but maybe
Let’s just hang out Sunday and then, if that makes us happy
Do it again next Sunday
And maybe the Sunday after that
And then… well, I could open up Mondays, which usually go to
Facials and dog walks and homemade teas

I guess–I was just thinking what if, right?
What if we really hit it off and it occurs to me that
A lot of this, it’s just been leading up to…
You… and… we could be something, yeah

Anyways, for now, I’ve given what you need

I’ll hit you up Friday
Confirm we’re still on.

Alan Semrow’s fiction, nonfiction, and poetry has been featured in over 30 publications. Semrow’s debut short story collection, Briefs (Lethe Press), was published in 2016. His second book, an epistolary memoir called Ripe, was released in 2018. Previously, he was a monthly contributor at Chosen Magazine, the Fiction Editor for Black Heart Magazine, and a Guest Fiction Editor for the Summer Issue of Five Quarterly. Semrow lives in Denver, CO. Insta: @alansemrow ; website: https://alansemrowwrites.com/