1414 N. Rutherford Blvd

Feels like the center of the universe. / It feels like all my love is here / concentrated into a plastic cup of soda / the color of broken glowsticks. // Out in the parking lot, / I / become something else–– / a wild animal / a God / a better version of myself–– / and I think about what would happen // if this building burnt to the ground. // if Devon or Antonio got caught / stoned on the clock. / if they stopped handing out free locos tacos coupons. // Out in the parking lot / I doomscroll, / throw my head back like a baby bird / inhaling crunchwrap supreme. / Each sip of baja blast a shot of electricity–– / of liquid serotonin–– / each fiesta potato a promise. // The polar bears are starving, / the Hoover Dam is dry, and Arizona is nothing / but sandstorms. / But 1414 N. Rutherford is still here–– / and somehow–– so am I. // I remember this address better than my own apartment’s. / I write it on a slip of fabric, sew it into my jacket.

Geyl Wells, 21, is a graduate student of English at Middle Tennessee State University. You can find her recent work in Blue Marble Review, Bullshit Lit, Let’s Stab Caesar!, Moody the Zine, and Just Femme & Dandy (forthcoming). Wells was born in the heart of Mississippi, raised in the shadows of Arizona’s Superstition Mountains, and lives in the suburbs of Nashville.

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