if i press my face to the glass

of the car window

i’ll see the speed

and pivot more clearly

and stop panicking

it’s funny how you manage to be the feminist


to spreads of misogynistic


the other feminist being your best friend

you wait for the moment

he takes up the microphone

and the world falls quiet


you think about flowers

and ice cream

and other things

as he speaks

it’s funny how when you press your

puckered face

close to the glass

you can see that things are


more clearly

but you fucking want to



two days ago

as you held your everything in your hands

he pretended to take it


took it out back

and fucked it

pressing the face

for movements sake

i don’t clap

i barely even frown

i fade into the thin wall paint


for all the schools

it never had to be clear

did it?

i spoke to nobody on the way home

the car was all inside world

i liked it that way

then i folded out my self

briefly into night

but in my front garden

the gerberas

were almost all closing themselves

dripping downwards

in reverence

to the stars

boys still playing drunken ping pong next door

(if i had joined i would have won)

are the flowers sleeping

half awake at the least

i will dream of it


ping pong tables


car door windows




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