Bears

a metal box

sand, a heap of sand

rain

teeth

a green shirt (my mother’s)

eyeliner

Lego bricks

a camera

a DVD player

a parted hairstyle

a concrete planter (a foot resting on it)

summer

stray dogs

a plastic beer cup

a cinema with a red star and a leaking roof

grass

Facebook friendships

mosquitoes

noodles

two concert tickets

the Palace of Justice

expectations

cigarettes in the shower

a drawing for my birthday

a letter: a swing, a skateboard, some music

a bench

white sheets

me in the mirror

a red carpet

dolphins, a taxi, palm trees

a bench

mulled wine, and I don’t know why

various places, all too beautiful for me

graffiti

an island, no, a house

tiles

daily injections, in the stomach

sweat

spit

hair on an arm

Strahinja, who eats children. jealousy

sand

a paved square—I feel it underfoot

a rearview mirror

a border

a quarry

bathroom tiles

flags

red velvet

a bitten lip

blisters

a paper crown at a McDonald’s birthday—not mine

crayons

bubblegum-flavored toothpaste

calls from an unknown number

nectar from a hedge flower

smog in the air

a landfill

shell-shaped jewelry box

a garbage processing plant

ticks

rotten apples

a fear of rams and nettles

rage

decoupage boxes

dandelion

herbarium: nettle, mint, 

the smell of  dust in the bus that took me everywhere

peaches

seagulls where they shouldn't be

pen on paper

same feeling as when:

mindless bread cutting

or purple plastic chairs (no more)

shouting with you like riding a bike downhill

creases on your face