Adulthood is the Loneliest Thing Since the Tiger Bore Teeth

 
 
I know one thing for sure:
I am not having any fun.
 
I do not know who to call
when 5 AM thunderstorms.
 
I do not know how arms became
children of themselves      aching
 
to grasp. My friends are all out
drinking now and I am begging
 
a stone       to leave or burst
into photographs. The present
 
is just an unripe past and we
throw our hands for sugar.
 
Nobody told me. That love
is the dead stars still heaving
 
the sky on, is daisies pressed
between the words: the crushed
 
flower skeletons decorating
        a note on the fridge.
 
She will tell you that teeth
will turn to crumbs in the sun
 
and chatter in the snow and
stones will always carry a knife
 
so never abandon your thirst
for staying alive. The echo
 
and all your tender lovers
will forget. There is no meal
 
on the other side of staying
strong.       Only a glint
 
in the hunter’s eye
before he mouths your name.
 
 
 

Philipe AbiYouness is a Lebanese-American writer, performer, and teaching artist from New Jersey. His work is featured or forthcoming in Sukoon Magazine, Poets.org (Academy of American Poets Prize feature), and Maps for Teeth. Philipe has taught devised theatre workshops in New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, and Florida. He enjoys peppermint tea, train stations, and early morning conversations with his mom.