Fri, 06/21/2019 - 02:11 -- PITKERN

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“so, when should we have sex?”

her lips were cherry pink and quivering with insecure verve.

(did she have braces yet?)

(did she ever have braces?)

(yes, she got them after winter break. when was this?)

(fuck, i don’t know. i thought her teeth were straight.)

(that must have been uncomfortable.)

i was thinking,

what the fuck,

because i didn’t think like that in middle school.

abandoning my inhibitions,

i set the date.

(immediately? in the school yard?)

(holy shit, no.)

it was maybe a saturday later,

and she sprawled herself on her bed,

awkwardly, like a daddy long legs when you crush it.

like a daddy long legs- skittering across granite countertops-

swinging by it’s silks;

i tried not to cry.

(did you cry when you got home?)

(i slept over at joey’s after; so no.)

(did you cry when you got to joey’s house?)


my sister loved to drink- and she would always let me.

my sister would tell me about mia putting nair on her


so her boyfriend didn’t look at her like that when they had sex,

or kaitlynn stocking her fridge with pineapple juice,

for what i still call, ‘i-don’t-even-want-to-know-what’.

(i think you know.)

(oh, i do.)

and my sister would complain to me about 

the sorrows 

of the midwestern girls and boys.

and i would wonder why girls cared about their bodies so bad,

and why my sister thought beer tasted so good.

(when you had sex with her, what were you thinking about?)

(i was probably thinking, ‘man, i wish i was having sex with my future wife right now’.)

(you’re cute.)

This poem is about: 
My community


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