the radio reminds me
that I am old.
Spotify reminds me that I am young.
my heart gives its two weeks notice
and leaves for some other South Carolina.
pair that with the voice
from the other room
and I am good to go,
helping myself through the light,
through the city by the rain.
I hate your instagram,
because it is better than mine,
yeah.
my jaw pops and the audience hears it;
i shouldnt have eaten those tacos,
but I did and now east Orlando is paying for it
as I write with Corso
on a terrace where terriers turn to stone
and my face hurts from last evening's cocaine.
oh my,
what I wouldnt give to be reminded
that I am a figure in her head
and an antagonist
in her story of stories,
from Park Slope to Louisville.
Let's go away and be heroes or villains,
bothing fight songs and the break of dawn.