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On those Wednesdays photo

 I wish I had that glorified high school
experience— where some boys

are chugging expired strawberry liqueur
and everyone, I mean everyone,

is sprawling on the grasscarpet— pointing
at the night and shrieking

look, look, we are alive. Until then, sentimental
bitches are eating

the sad shit in the refrigerator— and a honeymoon
is looming and is absolutely fucking

magnificent. I wish that I would stop,
sometimes, no always, ruffling

through the refrigerator for the onions
and squash flowers—
because I am a sentimental bitch,

and being so shoeless. Instead, when the syrup
and aerosols are pouring down at the glorified

high school party,
and everyone’s family has arrived to love them—

I just want to stop crying. 


image: Steven Lang