98∘

I came home from work and I looked at the backyard of gayulz club

and I was like

FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK this place

it's so dirty & gross here, god

and I looked at the bed I'd made & slept in, on the cement

and it is covered in little gnat corpses and little pollen flecks and sticky matter

and I was even more disgusted

but here I am, sitting

I cleaned up cigarette butts

beerbottles

beercans

a can of diet coke? whose

an empty pizza box

and I said, You know what, Molly?

and I said, WHAT, Molly??!

You deserve some WHISKEY, gurl

and I was all, YA I DO

so I got on my bike & rode my ass down to the liquor store. It's really hot out.

The temperature clock says almost 100

The internet says it's 92 degrees.

Remember that boy band

Nickey saw a pic of them these days

what, it's like 20 years later or something

and she said, Gross! they are so gross and OLD now

and I'm like Ya, why would they let a good thing die

which reminds me: remember when Jessica Simpson ballooned to like 150 lbs

and everyone freaked

bc it's Jessica FuckingSimpson

and she's hot, so how did she get so FAT

omg, did Nick Lachey leave her, you think

I don't even know

I need to look at more mag covers at the stores

I came home and I thought to make myself a cocktail

where's my cocktail?

I thought I really need a cold cocktail, I'll use the martini shaker

put in some ice, some ginger syrup, a little lemon juice, some sparkle water

and then I noticed it!

a single watermelon beer

and I was like

Why would I ever maudlin-exclaim that life sucks?! No way

it's even better than whiskey right now

in 98∘

Nick & Jessica, forever

fat or thin

gay or straight

geniuses,

I hope they made it
in all this heat

I blame my parents

I think the last thing I wrote was a list, not the list of vocabulary words but something else.

A list of reaches, desperate

my mom came by last night, she dropped off some lemon fettuccine with shrimp

it was delicious

& perfect because I've been craving fettuccine since three sundays ago.

my stomach rode cradled in my pelvis

my brain was in my throat

my uterus had dropped & splattered in the steps of my feet.

but I turned upside down, in that bridge move

a real yoga move

and I stretched & my organs sort of congealed back to their places forawhile.

she said, do you have any idea how much I love you?

and I couldn't possibly,

and that made me cry

and does she have any idea what I think? what I've thought?

that I have the smoke of a thousand cigarettes for hair

that I have walnuts for a hand

that my fallopiantube legs were withered, so it was difficult to walk

and I tried to spring with just my feet

but they're too small

and the shells of my fingers turned to stone, they were all numb when I woke up.

she didn't make me all alone,

but I think about how everything funny is sad

and everything sad is sort of funny

and I wonder does it make that everything

devastating, tragic

is hilarious?

and then you said, no way, what's funny about your relative getting shot to death

and we both laughed so fucking hard at that

she didn't make me all alone,

but she knew what she was doing

she had to go get a reverse tubal ligation

& dad had to get something done, too

his sperm count was low

too much yellow 5, dad?

doin the dew?

they knew what they were doing. he was 29 when they met.

they knew that there would be a baby would be a human

and it would have to live

in the future

in this world

and it's a big place

but there's nothing bigger

than being shut up in your brain

which is still throat stuck

& choking

song for the holiday inn at casa grande arizona

And here, still, warmest pavement beneath barest feet, the hair of the dog literal & figurative, below and over. The glimmer of aqua poolwater waving at me. My own salty dog, my palest pink dress. The palest coloring of arizona no matter where. Today I took a walk down a long road, over three miles and they claiming it's one-hundred-and-seven degrees. I scoff and drip. Would it be nearly that hot? I can take it better than I thought. No loneliness set-in, just the flies of me, the dogs and me. The grasshoppers give a great chase. Our feet bare, the courtyard of a holiday inn bare, save for our voices. The salt cutting the grapefruit, the liquors. My mind beginning again after air-conditioned dreams, the sweat congealing me cold, soaking a dress till freezing. A fly walks on my lemon, and I am fully alive in a chickenless existence. Thriving in pastels, in arizona keeping me her prisoner once more.