We were at the record store
and you had just smoked a joint
and I didn’t have the focus to be who I wanted
and I wanted to be a movie
with a photo booth scene
and you wanted to be high
and I wanted to be informed
about politics in the Middle East
But actually I didn’t want information
I wanted pleasure
I wanted cigarettes
and conversation
where we pretended
to be philosophical
without putting in
any of the work

Fuck philosophy I said later
Really meaning it
And you said, ‘everything is philosophical’
Which is true
‘Everything is 1s and 0s,’ I said
‘I doubt it’
And you kissed me
tasting like a 1.

I read you a ‘list of ingredients’
that I made up off the top of my head
I told you, ‘this is for an impossible recipe
that’s motorized and electric
if you eat the ingredients in the order I listed
all your ions will be charged forever.’

A week later we had dinner
at a sidewalk café on Capitol Hill
I told you about my plans to be healthy
You told me about your yoga certification
We held hands in the basketball court
It was June

You never ate the ingredients
You never read Confucius or The Guardian
You never put the work in
Neither did I
And we loved each other
for months

Corbin Louis is a poet and performer from Seattle Washington. He is a recording artist and MFA graduate at University of Washington Bothell. Corbin’s work has previously been featured in Best American Experimental Writing, Santa Ana Review, Atticus Review, The Visible Verse Film Festival and others. The author seeks to open up dialogues of addiction and mental illness. Ink becomes war call and empathy. Salt water and whispers. The poet lives.