I am selfish in my bitterness.
I am dark and under-steeped.
The things I found to hold
In my hands. They stick like
Pine sap on a sandy beach.
I just want to get down.
I want to wipe my bark palms
On ill-fitting jeans.
But the sap stays with me.
And it’s all I can smell
on the bike ride home.
Dayna Lang 