In the brush of the tilted sunshine
Like marshmallow molasses
Crinoline skirts pulled up to our necks
We reveal a shade of hair
Wilted lipstick
Inked up dreams
Thoughts formulated by culture
By experience.

"She is varryy worldly. Varrry cultured."
My mama used to say, her voice ringing
Like the bell of an old church
When referencing my female friends
That perhaps
Seemed more experienced than I was at the time.

Little pink skirts
Low cut tops
Troubled
Almost sent away a handful of times
Black eyeliner
I remember crying in so much black eyeliner
During my emo phase
Where nothing made sense but loud bass
And the face of whatever boring boy
I had decided to idolize.

I wonder to myself now
At which point
Did we truly seem to outgrow
The male ***
And will they catch up to us?

The women and I scratch our chins
In unison
And frown all at once.

Unclear.

My eyes are beginning to drift
Closed
I've been trying to think of all of my adventures
Wishing I could compile them all
Into one big little beautiful slide show
That would sit and wait
And be treasured
Until I decided to move on.

But thats just not how it goes.