“Fort Lauderdale Coriander” by Lose Touch Completely

My secret language is a cum scribbled code

more immediate than a dream, but perhaps

we can move past our cycles; reading Henry Miller. Where then?

In my room smoking a mango vape, 8% beer,

listening to an ambient album

with a cover that looks like a Mario 64 desert level.

Earlier tonight I went to a concert and I swear I can vouch for a generation.

Hoping for something magical to occur.

I had an awkward encounter because I didn’t press x fast enough;

you told me something similar happened to you.

We ran into a few people who I didn’t want to see,

the universe spits them out. Up and down,

at the club, up, down and around; who cares.

Not like the trees, but like my perception of artwork, you asked me

if I wanted to leave and the answer was no. Why stay?

Lose Touch Completely is a 25 year old writer who resides in Canada. This poem is about going out.