They say only the good die
young, and isn’t that right:
I’m not a bad boy but
I bought a leather jacket.
I am still alive.
Can you tell
I’ll be whatever you want?
It’s vintage from that thrift shop
on First Avenue, you know the one
with racks and racks of leather and denim.
You asked me if it was
but I shrugged and pretended
not to know. I shrugged it off.
It fell from my shoulders,
it was too big for me
so on your hardwood floor
I made a pile of my things.
I laid my back on white cotton
and sighed. I reached my palms
upturned towards the skin of your thighs.
You squinted, spit on my chest
my teeth opened
wide, I said
yes take off, take off—
You again, asking “Why
don’t you ever take off your pants?”
As if in nothing but our pale skins
we could give each other ourselves.
This poem was included in my book "I want you to feel ugly, too," which can be read on issuu. This fragment was originally published in Mineral Lit Mag's Lana Del Rey mini issue.
About the Creator
Hi! I'm a queer multimodal artist writing love poems in Seattle, one half of the art and poetry collective Eat Yr Manhood, and head curator of Stone Pacific Zine. Work in The Rumpus, Occulum, Peach Mag, dream boy book club, and others. :P
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