15/30

15/30
Your Name Means Late-Summer or Warlike
Girl, you make me want to say girl in that way where the rrrrrr’s roll out forever and the i becomes a u. Yeah. That’s right. And you make me want to roll up the bottom of my jeans, shove collected countries in the back pockets and collected men between my thighs. Stop collecting dreams. Girl, you make me want to rock climb—cover myself in that fine chalk powder dust, grunt like I want it, till my hand skin comes off in chunks. And you make me want to eat meat. Fuck chicken and fish. I mean steak. Cooked rare. Make me want to barbecue, corn kernels for floss and watermelon seeds for spitting. You make me want to shower in garden-hoses, drink BudLight around campfires, wear flannel. Want to tan like I was one-sixteenth Indian. Girl, you make me want to get high and ride public transportation with the retarded kids. Or stay up all night driving the screen saver into space. Girl. You make me want to slow. this. shit. down.

Comments

  1. This is totally a Tracey poem. And can I tell you I love it because this evening for her birthday we BBQ'd and there was steak and mojitos. And Sexually inappropriate cards from Trace's grandma. And gluten free coconut macaroons from Katie Baby. And Keelin made cupcakes with no refined sugar.

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  2. this was awesome as well

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  3. Giiirl.

    I love it. I love you.

    T

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  4. this is perfect. kind of made me get goose-bumpy just because it's so "strong". I don't know how to talk about poems.

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  5. p.s. especially "shove collected countries in the back pockets and collected men between my thighs."

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  6. thanks keeeeee. i will use those comments!

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