Crush on a Boy

He makes my head spin and
I feel like I’m drowning
Are you
Are you thinking
Are you thinking about me?

I don’t like this
He’s (you’re)

You can’t hate yourself
over not knowing.
You shouldn’t write poems
about someone you barely know
I think
of the girl in the art museum,
my yellow backpack that started
the conversation.

(I still don’t know.
check your phone again.)

The gilded frames
on the masterpieces
Asian tourists
in designer t-shirts,
and black-and-white
photography, nudes
done by my family.
(Do I belong here?)


How can I offer present give show ? myself
(I am no bauble, no
birthday gift to be
unwrapped the
heroin addict said
iwannafuckyou and I said…)

At the museum
I was not the centerfold
I miss
California, and I will be
to never
go back.


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