north carolina
driving thru the balm,
cutting thru the night,
i am a local girl.
i could really live here.
crickets give a familiar sound,
north carolina,
could be anybody’s home, really.
his lap is my house,
when i’m young, i am silk.
he falls in love at 3 o’clock.
and i’m pulling into golden corral,
making memories of a dead dad and buffets.
i could really live here,
could be anybody’s home, really.
montecito hair
is long and ends in a clean line.
it asks for no forgiveness
on the tan girl, tres mince,
who never wants to know u.
:::a palm in the sun:::
florida’s gone
and i’m looking back thru the window.
bye girl. it’s all by your girl.
the things from your childhood:
thick stained rugs,
dewey soda with a straw,
neon fish on a t-shirt,
tapioca pudding,
all of my little ponies,
sink into a tepid sea.