I hate hate hate
this part of my brain
I’m in right now
if it’s the part
all this junk
is clunking around in
but there she is
her bright eyes looking
like she knows she’s smart
and something about
her hair the way
how even though it’s short
it curls all over
I know I know
she’s got a girlfriend
that’s so not it
Isn’t it?
she can draw
a peach that moves
a peach so real
that real peaches
can look at it
and understand
what
being a peach
is
all about
but she never smiles
not real smiles
not when I look at her
just these flat stretches
of her lips
a kind of cold slit
and anyway her
freezing smiles
don’t make it to her eyes
which like I said are bright
but seem just now as if they’re
reading a bad word
what makes her not
like any of the others?
I know I shouldn’t ask
I know I know
but I don’t know
still there she is
behind the trash bin
squinting at me
her fingers stained with paint
pulling a smoking cigarette
out of her mouth
slowly like she knew I was
no threat
I spat out the last
of the slop
You should do it in your hand.
she said
Puke in your hand.
It’s funnier.