game day

to me,
sometimes,
   hope tastes like
   the bitter, half-cold coffee you forgot in the car
   while you were getting ready
and the one bite of chicken
wing dip as it comes out of
the oven, (y’know,
   to make sure it’s good)
sometimes
it smells like
   a breeze tinged with the chill
   that comes with recent snow,
   infused with cheap beer & charcoal
but sometimes it tastes like
a memory of something
   more bitter than half-cold coffee,
a twin feeling of distrust,
a protective instinct
   you cannot extricate;
(Josh Allen is a gemini,
   after all)

there’s a waltz we all know—
step to the right,
   don’t get too excited
step to the left,
   “we’ll find a way to fuck it up”
twirl your partner and stop holding your breath
because my favorite step
   is when we forget this jaded dance for a day
   and fucking light some shit on fire

some days you feel alone,
but other days
there’s a game

Jameson Hampton is an adventurer from Buffalo, NY who wishes they were immortal so they'd have time to visit every coffee shop in the world. His work has previously been seen in such publications as Moonchild Mag, Rhythm & Bones Lit, Prismatica Magazine and Lazy Adventurer Publishing. Find him online at jamey.gay or on Twitter @jameybash.