all my dad bought was tequila,
so i spent my evenings staring into it, plugging my nose
(orange is my least favorite color.)
drip drip drip, onto our sidewalks, like an iv in an inevitably diseased vein
its still coming down, slowly. you feel it if you dont move
swallow me, into tunnels made of clear plastic film,
dry me out until i am the dust left by summer

i stood out in the middle of the road in the california smog
paved concrete over a desert, we wonder why it doesnt rain
i dont think ill leave here.

i want to go to a natural cemetery, no graves
the earth will be soft and all that will be left is nature, overgrown
they helped build it and i will too.

i spent my teenagedom
checking on a book, in a deep deep vault in the basement of a library
yellow lights, with 1900s girl scout manuals
it is immortal. i am responsible for it

we met when your hometown was burning and now i have to return your  birthday present.

in 7th grade it was red, bood red, wine red. short and choppy and red, i hated myself. i cried until it grew, thinking my problems rooted in what was left of my hair. i lied that year, red lips spewing black oil, sticky and hard to wash out. in 8th grade, the summer i was a fairy, it was raven black, green under the redwood sun, too thick bangs covering my greek caterpillar eyebrows. a boy had a crush on me and girls carved words into their ankles, i didnt understand. i dont think they understod either. in 9th grade my hair was long, overgrown, knotted. stained colors i no longer could recognize, hugging my neck and back and shoulders when you ****** me over, i buzzed it off in the end.

my good friends dog died. she was old and she liked to sleep next to the heater and they took her away and never brought her back. she told me in the first period locker rooms, when my buzzcut was still patchy from trich and unsteady hands and it was still cold outside. she cried and cried and told no one else. just me. no one posted pictures of her dead dog, said goodbyes, made instagram posts about it. she was just gone. we went to her house and her bed was empty and no one said anything. like she never happened. my friend was terrified of remembering her and i was terrified of forgetting her;

we can go wherever we want
we can even go to
montana
because we can't live here anymore
all the boys are talking to her,
they're drowning in blue and talking to her
it is hard to understand
in a similar way it is hard to understand
flowers growing,
maybe it is your birthday.
all the boys are talking,
their eyes are closed and they're talking to her
it is hard to hear when i sleep