I want to go back there, 
back to the nights 
at the arcade 
when I worked 
the late shift 
and the photo booth 
begged us to get naked. 
I want to go back 
to the back alley 
behind the Bottleneck 
and stretch out 
the word platonic 
like a rubber band. 
I want to go back 
to the dead days,
to see the lover of my life 
one last time. 
But that’s outdated, 
like the plane 
that brought you here, 
or the forms I signed 
about lead paint 
in the apartment. 
That’s outdated,
and I’m never 
going back there. 

---

Kelly Stohr uses she/her pronouns and is a queer writer from the Hudson Valley. She currently lives in Kansas City, Missouri, with her cat named Turtle. Kelly is a copywriter by day and Managing Editor of The Giving Room Review by night (and a patron of dive bar pool tables by early morning).

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