How I Remember Cancer

 

 

 

for some reason mom bought me a bike
the same day she told me about you
glittery pink like your ventricles used to be
little wine darkened atriums now

grandma got a new car
glitters red like hung over new years confetti
like how i imagined you used to be
four doors, four chambers, defining irony

we went to the mexican joint on 4th
i ordered my fajitas medium rare like you did
pink like the insides of your ribcage used to be
like the shirley temple syrup you cough up now

instead of you, i have a fucking bike