Actual Reassurances

Reassurance arrives
from strange places now.

Not the places
that promised it.
Not the places
that should have known how.

A California license plate
immediately followed by a Massachusetts one
as I walk into my building
to throw out a scrapbook
full of your old letters.

My dog carrying her Lamb Chop toy
through the apartment,
and remembering my mother
dressed me as Lamb Chop
when I was three.

The tarot cards
falling out exactly as I suspected,
that private little relief
of not being wrong.

Walking through downtown Brattleboro
and seeing rainbow flags everywhere.

Wiping down my counter
with Clorox wipes
just because it feels good.

Picking out a new jewelry box
then walking past a store window
full of Blundstones.

A default password
being LionFire2,
like maybe it is possible
to meet a Leo twice
and begin again.

The email telling me
my Alaskan cruise is in sixty days,
because at least I know
I will go to Alaska
even if we will not go to Alaska.

My website reaching a thousand hits
in the first week,
even if it shares a birthday
with an Aries douchebag.

Every single person
who has ever looked at me
after you minimized me
and said, no,
you are not crazy.

Forgetting it was April 5th
until the day was almost over,
but remembering April 15th
because the Titanic sinking
matters more
than the day I regret the most.

The friends
who do not give up on me
no matter how many times
I fail to take their advice.

Still having a career.
Still having a life
outside the damage.

Every earnest and beautiful thing
anyone ever says to me now
without making me beg for it.

I am tired of performances.
I want what lands.

And finally,
after the worst breakup of my life,

a beautiful toothy smile

saying, “Melissa, look at me…
It gets better.”

Because one sincere sentence
said to my face
did more for me
than all your reassurances
ever did.