morals are subjective she says when
kohl-smudged eyes, door wrenching open in the afternoon sun
in my underwear (R. runs her hands over it, says, i expected it to feel like rubber)
cheekies cheekies (when i get out of bed and
walk for a glass of water)
airport lines
and i can’t believe i missed the pool of rose petals
the girls get into the shower together
"i’m still
not clear on
whether
or not
you like
men.”
the speeding ticket is for two hundred and seventy dollars
the last time i had that much money at one time in crisp bills
was a fake-out, money lust, empty cartridges
just after christmas and just before new years, just before i stepped out
of the train
into the city just before imagined arms to catch me and everyone i know
in the same bed
just before i fell in love with the coat check girl and stuffed her pockets full of bills
spelling out my pseudonym in gold stars below my collarbones,
stranger, leering, i want to put you in a large white van, i want you to-
clutching onto my curls, the hem of my dress
just before
the subway car where ally tells me she saw this film you would love
about serial killers and beautiful girls and
(i don’t think so)
i stand around my room in my parents’ house taking in the marmalade of the walls,
eating clementines from a paper sack, eyes trying for
do you love this love me love here, count out fifty, i think you owe me for the jewels—-
remember me remembering thinking deliberately as i peel apart these
you broke open the bottles against the
he stole a bottle of wine from the bar and helped me up to heaven
give me your wrist to lick - do you want to do these off my—-
looking for things to sell (books? body?)
listening to the same a cappella song on repeat
on repeat
my mother calling from downstairs, what do you mean, you don’t have the money?
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