I got that Summertime Summertime

Somewhere between Columbus and Los Angeles

Somewhere between episodes of Euphoria

The ecstatic chat at after-midnight porch hangs

Ariana Grande’s wide brim hat circles the whole

World—wait, let me back track: 7 days ago I held

Becky’s newborn in my double wide mitts a full 20

Seconds before the panic attacked.

Everything is happening and I’m not okay.

I’m in a metal can atop the atmosphere.

This would be a metaphor if it wasn’t.

There’s everything inside my skin and then

There’s everything else. I’m afraid

Of unribboning because it’s already happening.

Someday, not. The baby grown won’t know

I learned how to hold her head. The word is


I wasn’t prepared for the dance remix

Of Summertime Sadness to begin it’s throb

From the speakers onstage but words came

Anyway. My friends cheered from the table.

I came, spiritually. I got that I got that I got that

The scary moments, the ones to live for,

They don’t care. I care so much

I tell you to shut up. I tell you to go to bed.

I tell you to stop coming on to me.

I tell you I’m a garbage person lol.

I tell you it doesn’t matter. I tell you

I love that the show has an omniscient

Narrator, but she’s also a character. That

Must be so difficult to pull off! Instead of,

Come over. Instead of please and thank you.

Instead of The queso in this chips and queso

Is thick with a mother’s disappointments.

You can be the mother of so many things.

The only thing I want to leave to the world

Is words. S-s-s-summertime. Summertime.

Get in my mouth and stay there. I want to feel

Your shuddering release. I like to know

It’s not just me. I like to pull you off. I tell you

From the porch that I used to call my cousin

“A scurvy bitch” because I thought it was

A pirate term that meant something like “gross”

Because the unribboning of your laughter. Because

That clap from the crowd. Because of the handshake

Of voices in harmony. Because there’s my body,

And then there’s your body, I once wrote in an office

Five years ago. I couldn’t have seen today

And wouldn’t want to. Yes, I want to be a product of

My time. Yes, I’m a fan of quoting old work

In new work because this is the one and only

Space where I can do anything I fucking want.

I appreciate the sound a machine makes

When you have decided to think of me. I can’t

Say I miss you back. Not even here. The limit

Does not exist, and then