People like us



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You’re like some kind of butterfly collector
but instead of butterflies
pressed dry and senseless into your scrapbook
it’s things-you-think-you-know-about-people

Your scrapbook’s got some kind of
incomprehensible taxonomy
of your own subconscious devising:

(A) high foreheads / perverts
(B) cardigan smells sour / perverts
(C) men who wear cardigans (not sour) / fatherhood material
(D) slow walkers / possible immigrants
(E) tame ones / to be avoided, unless (H)
(F) fabulous ones / investigate further
(G) men who’ve read Borges / bf material
(H) cat-lovers / saints
(I) dog-lovers / possible xenophobes
(J) athletic / cares too much for their own appearance
(AND) so
(ON) and
(SO) forth

People like you are item (K) in my scrapbook:
mermaids (or sirens) / people who give people like me a bad name

You told me to be more honest



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There were giant
spined leeches hidden
in the garden
vampiric starfish
we went
they would find
a wrist
back of a knee
to nest
Appearing from nowhere
like teleporting cockles
fixing to flesh rocks
and leaving salty lava craters
when torn away

We went in the next day
Head-to-toe in vinyl
and gaffer tape
hauling chemical sprays
and destroyed
the garden
all of it
and the leeches
were no more

I regret doing it
That garden was beautiful

Join the library



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I went in search of the greatest love poem ever:

In between work emails
I sexted succubi for research purposes
and catfished centaurs to see how they ticked
I learned pan flute from goat-toed pickup artists
and could hold a tune, but it wasn’t very good.

Weekends, I drove to ancient burial sites
and got lost in the dark
excavating bodies to weep on their remains
It was as disgusting as it sounds
I even chased a ghost for a couple of years
but she eventually grew scared and vanished

And then I found it
four fucking lines in a $30 book
while eating ice cream at the park

Might hit the library soon
it seems more cost-effective

Young love


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I can’t believe this
moment has arrived, and
that I’ve seized it, and
that you have too, and
here we are, both seizing it.

You’re the most perfect thing,
the most perfect fucking thing
– my heart is in my mouth.
Here, take it from me with yours.
Let me trace the angles
of your lips with mine.

This moment has arrived, and
will arrive again, long after
we have forgotten it, and
we have been forgotten.
Let it arrive again and again.
Let young love seize this
moment forever.