the full moon was affecting
everyone, aside from boston and
me; the vancouver riot fires
and the boys tripping over my
grape chucks and into the dirt
the boy at the bar asks, "what's
your favorite cereal?"
"cheerios," i say. but it's a lie.
cut to bridge scene
and the teeth inside your jeans
your thighs are jaws looking to
eat me alive,
or something like that, anyway.
you tell me you've stopped drinking so
much. "you'd be proud of me," you say.
"you, especially." and i wonder
if you even know my last name
but then you stick your tongue
in my mouth and i
i don't think i know my last name either.
when i sleep, i dream that everyone
takes pills to become a better version
of themselves. when i take mine, i
look in the mirror, expecting bigger
eyes, perkier breasts. only instead,
i'm no longer a woman.