Magic 8 ball
by James Roach
I look for you
in the dumbest places.
Hidden in the maze
of Ikea on a Saturday,
a surprise
on my front porch,
a drowning
yes
in the purple
liquid window
of a Magic 8 Ball.
You’re never anywhere
but my stupid heart.
James Roach (they/he) is a queer, trans, sober poet who suffers and revels from the embarrassing and magical ordeal of falling in love. They write at night because that's the safest time for vulnerable thoughts. He currently lives in the moment but often relocates to the past because sometimes, that's the only place the sun rises.