1. 23:17 22nd Aug 2010

    Tags: my poetryread the shape of things which isn't directly related but still beautiful

    virgin 2.0

    holding cardboard pens I wonder what it’s like to be a plastic pencil shoved into the desk of a resident whom hasn’t checked their homework or written in their planner or called their father in almost two weeks. I wonder what it’s like to be a Styrofoam cup in the back of a coed’s car while they’re going 60 in a school zone and laughing with one arm out the window because this is what it feels like being alive. I wonder, but I already know, so the thoughts repeat, forwards, backwards, catch between my lashes like morning crust, blinding, blurring. The clearance section tells me I’m two months behind but my hemp tote bag and the recycling symbol on the bottom of my flip flops (held together with staples because throwing them out after one summer is for ignorant product wasters) tells me I’m becoming better, newer, that I’m falling into the shape of things - of grass that grows green without chemicals, of bodies that shape without supplements, of pinkies that bind together like air particles under my tongue; that the newer virgin of myself is a better, more desirable girl.