Del Ray Cross
IT’S A BUNCH OF PEOPLE TRYING TO MAKE A MOUTH
& IT’S A LONG DEAD HORSE.
Whenever I sleep, or these last
few days, my head becomes the
shape of a tangerine and I wake
myself up with a burning tongue.
Burning tongue disease.
I didn’t know either of them
and I’m not an anthropologist
(Hold on, this makes sense).
He’s drinking a mojito
with a very nice ass
(This is narrative).
I could quilt everything into a narrative, but then
would I still have a crush on the coat-check guy?
Because I kissed him
next to the pool table once.
I’m certain he remembers.
Why have an obsession
when there are so many other ways
to hate our president?
She’s such a beautiful James Dean.