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a preface to the next women's revolution.
about how much i miss being in love. born on easter sunday. even when i'm smoking all the time. hialeah dirty-talk (revised). how icarus and i share consistent paths: i may be the only woman who hates sylvia plath -- i'm seventeen, melodramatic, and pissed at you (ode to miami). i've gotten used to stumbling often (or, detachment). little haiti will never be my eden. loop road (leaving behind). loop road (shooting at soda cans). my body is not my body. please god love me. the next women's revolution: because i am a sailor. the veins that line your scalp. your third chance took a week to squander. 2007 2006 2005 home |
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I. I switch four seats down the row, for serious, I hate her hair. That new boyfriend, he's incredibly ugly, "I think she's incredibly ugly." hey babe, high five. II. Later we'll talk about how I was his first love. I'm grimy. Like raw. How he calls me a fucking whore because he's insecure And not because I dated other men behind his back. I know I screwed him up, I know his prideful fear is my wrongdoing. I feel no remorse. III. I know this girl who sucks coke up her nose and boys down her throat, corroded. I consider her manipulative, and don't think that she knows. How she'll show up at the houses of people I know, How I'll take her to parties, And then get blamed, "Why did you tell her where we live? We don't want her here." I talk trash about her behind her back, no lie, She's my undoing. I feel no remorse. IV. Dollface, I made a list of every word that begins with 'God' And found you nowhere. You had sex with that girl just to lose it before eighteen, You do X because dance culture's the only culture you'll ever understand, So suck it up. I used to dress slutty and lounge about your bed like some cat in heat, To make you want me. Most days I forget that you exist. V. Here's me one-hundred-and-seven-pounds And throwing up Gatorade and coffee flavored yogurt at four a.m. The whole time, all I can think is, I don't even throw up this dirty when I'm drunk And Why are you dating that nasty girl with the emo haircut? She lives across an ocean and I live across Alligator Alley, I've loved you four years running, But what are you to her? Later I'll get a call from my old lover who moved away, And we'll talk about how he needs to move back to Florida, Buy a car, Build an army. I love him, but I'm going to treat you like shit anyway. VI. Me and her discuss how badly we want out. We're tired of the sunshine, we're tired of the heat. We're tired of the Spanish and the people. We're tired of running into all those old acquaintances, Who remember us fatter and dressed in Hot Topic clothing, Who hate us for never doing Xanax or Triple C's. We know that once we get out, then we can start over. We won't talk all this shit, or drink this cheap beer. Once we get to Boston Chicago Kansas City New York Everyone will have it figured out. We'll forget Miami. We'll grow up. VII. I want you to know that I've loved you. I've defined myself with your sawgrass and your highways. I've slept with a lot of your men. I feel no remorse. |