S and I were together nearly a year before the band really got back on the road. Their six-week tour started in Minneapolis.

This Essay Isn't About the NBA Finals Because No One Here Cares About the NBA Finals

Jurgen Klopp, the coach of Liverpool’s soccer team, wears a black shirt and pale-framed glasses, just like the

The man I love who does not love me back sends me someone else’s tweet. The only text is a hashtag: Notre Dame. The video hasn’t loaded. A week before, the Notre Dame women’s basketball team made it

The first doctor who called said I couldn’t play. The scan showed stress fractures and the only remedy was rest. It would have been a blessing the diagnosis came between seasons but, for me,

The world does not write enough odes
to in-betweenness—the way you can be
together / feel apart / apart / feel together.
In a room of dozens, in a city of millions,
the mashing of MacBook keys

As teenagers, my friends and I spent Friday nights driving backroads, throwing soda cans at street signs. The wind would be cold, the music would be loud, and sometimes, a can would bounce back and

In my favorite bookstore in a city where I no longer live, there’s a sign for sale that says: when in doubt, turn left. I don’t remember the name of the gym where I spent my adolescence, but I could

I can show you the double-rimmed chain-netted concrete court where I taught myself it was okay to aspire.

I made eye contact, made the purchase, stored it between other magazines on my bookshelf.

This wasn’t supposed to be an essay.

 It doesn't take much for a curve to become a coil, for a bridge to become a cage.