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My Favorite Tomboy Patrick Carrington |
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Here’s a slingshot I
made you from mint berry branches. Let’s play cops and
robbers in the drainage ditch at Tie my hands with
fishing line, poke your fingers in the
small of my back and lead me with hands
high through the back door of
Otto’s where you can try on
that fur your mother wanted for Christmas. And dancing. I want to
dance with you and naked mannequins in
the window for the milkman to see. We’ll kiss him, leave our lips on the
glass and escape to your secret attic as
they sleep, and kiss behind the
yellow curtains where no one sees, where
you can tilt your head the right way. I think I’ve always loved you and your sideways mouth,
how you say Them's root beer barrels, ain't worth the shit they smell like. Let's race through the
cemetery young, straight to Mayor
Harrison's headstone near you’ll do it again,
you’ll go and say
of his black marble. I’ll hide the gobstopper moon
under your tongue, something big enough to last forever.
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