Cows are my favorite animal, and my mom is worried about me.
Virginity, lifeless miscreant!
Why would you ever deign to approach me
when your only aim was to trample my naivety?
Figuring it out was painful.
Black as fresh-made coffee.
She smiled and I felt gutted.
I see violets blooming between her teeth.
“I can’t compare her to pancakes. That sounds vaguely sexual. I know… I’ll change ‘pancakes’ to ‘crepes.’ That makes it deep.”
Rain: translucent, crystallized youth on sticky, tender lips.
I’m pretty sure the poem I’m remembering is by William Carlos Williams.
Like the track marks on our embroiled, addict hearts…
It didn’t work out in the end.
Thinking about a girl I met in California…