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"freezie" poems
if you care to know what life was like for a teenage girl, in Buffalo, NY i would have to tell you, that indeed, stonewash jeans were HOT and even more so, if they were rolled up, folded, and p i n n e d. it was the tail end of punks, with the rise of grunge, pearl jam s o u n d g a r d e n and REM michael jackson and p r i n c e. SNL, chicken wings, and the phantom of the opera the world was sad the middle east was sad and the president was a pervert. what more is there to say? other than the driveway and porch parties and of course, computers pagers and andy warhol. there really wan't much to it. camping, stars in the country and crisp fall air and winters that never ended. brutal sun, freezie pops and dance routines. i was a girl. what more can i say?
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Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 8:31 PM UTC
a girl, circa 1995
When you get used to being around someone, you memorize where your things can't go, (the cellphone on the windowsill, glass on the dresser) because they - the person that is - and everything about them and with them and on them occupy that space. Their collective useless clean-up-after-me crap jams and crams and fills themselves (maybe by magic, perhaps by fate) into places where only you and the great clean air around you used to go, and you want to **** them for taking over this sacred space - or at least tear their throat a little with your teeth - their ***** underwear and the piles on piles of plastic freezie wrappers and crumpled receipts dig and claw their way into your skin. they burn and choke and burrow in so deep that you miss them when they're g n . But of course, that isn't what you think of always. Not really. Every under appreciated, suffocating action, every dagger word, the electric pulse that tore through your skin because they brushed up against the wrong part of you (sometimes, unknowingly, the right part of you) suddenly disappears with them. And you, unforgotten, loved, have to stay. and when they're gone their smell sticks to you for a little while.
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Mar 30, 2011
Mar 30, 2011 at 10:39 AM UTC
What was I thinking, anyway?