I buy the crime sprees
the clear bag with orange flowers
filled with plastic curlers
I buy your tall tales of Florida
but I still don’t care.
I walk back and forth in the hot humid rain
the headiness of everything
I do is a moon phase.
When I was nothing but a drunk and a slut
a jointed doll since Halloween
black panties painted on
witch flames over everything
but how did this month let go already?
We write down useless lines sick, sick like a movie
wait for our memories
this beauty dependent on red cheeks and full snowsuits.
If I could separate the process from the watering hole
from when they hung me from a meathook
in the spider-colored silence
the weather vane spins green ink on my nipple
as the screen loads
the cats have beany kidneys.
I pose in front of the mirror
in my minty faux fur
in my idiosyncrasies
can’t not have sex with myself.
Today could be my birthday but I don’t really know
I wait for heavy snow to impose a persona
and the unkempt yards make it hard
to go home again
but you assume the haunted house really happened
that it was the utmost
that men chased us with chainsaws
once they got paid
that they yelled out our names
and also sold lacy gold frames
with all of my school pictures in them.