a certain kind of homesickness

thanks to our parents
we were allowed to have
our own apartment.

a graph on the bathroom mirror
let us know how many days
we’d been outside
and that half our weed 
was in the couch cushions

and for a while there
we never cleaned out the fridge
and all our laundry
piled up in the sink

these people started 
to call our phones
their voices 
fit through the walls-

we rubbed our lips
on dryer sheets 
and waited for 
our ears to hum.

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