“Let’s be in love for just tonight,” you said,
When I had better things to do in red
High heels. Encircling your big bad bed
Like scouts around a campfire, ahead
A ring of muscles pressing us instead
Of sense, misplacing wits, shoes shed — — outspread:
My map, your body.
Folded up: my dread.
___
The featured image accompanying this poem, entitled ‘Let it Grow’, has been used with the permission of artist, Wednesday Morning.
In the coffee shop watching all the invisible people. The Chinese cellist reading aloud without a sound, the two men nearby trying to flirt inconspicuously,
*synth beats* bright plastic blue screen green screen *auto-tune screams* chunky glasses tuned-in apathy *boy band* drive fast die young pretty corpse *twangy guitar*
‘‘It’s okay to change your mind.’’ About feeling, a person, a promise of love. I can’t just stay to avoid contradicting myself. I don’t have
An independent literary magazine for contemporary fiction, thought, and opinion about popular culture, society, and everything on the periphery.
