College, am I right?

We all have that story. That story about one moment that defines your life. Okay, not your life — but it’s a moment where you made a serious lapse in judgment that led to heart-stopping embarrassment that you still haven’t forgotten 13 years later.

It was junior year of college. I wasn’t the hotshot theater kid that I was in high school anymore (is there such a thing?) — I opted out of majoring in theater to be a film major instead — so I found a new group: the film club. The club was new and founded by four…

A poem about that fucking guy

I’m so glad you don’t follow me on Instagram
I’d hate for you to scroll through your feed
and see my freshly healed scar
from the surgery you didn’t know I had

I’d hate to get that 9-month overdue text:
I’m so sorry
I had no idea
How are you?

I wouldn’t have to craft
a response that reads like a paper-cut;
It doesn’t hurt in the moment
but it will sting later

I wouldn’t have to tell you how it went:
a fresh cut
on top of an old scar
is always messier

I now have four new scars

A poem

Those fourteen blocks
on a brisk September morning
It wasn’t that early but I felt like most of the city
had slept in that Saturday

That Saturday

Or maybe I could hardly notice
anyone passing us by,
so focused was I on
my tiny hand in your gigantic palm,
torn between
wanting to look in front of me,
and wanting to look at you

the previous evening in my head:
drinking and laughing
and dancing around your hotel room
the way we danced around
those three words all night:

“I’m crazy about you.”
“I can’t get enough you you.”
“I’m so…

Clare Almand

Chronically ill and chronically single. Essayist, poet, bagel enthusiast, and perpetural seventh wheel.

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