A Local Concert with a Cluster of Porta Potties

Bring some warm tequila in a shiny new bottle.
You don’t want to have your apartment smelling like a
couch. I wait for it to naturally correct every superhero
at once, accept the fact that Chris Evans is just a kid,
for once. There are but a handful of moments that can
get fucking real. Inhale a burrito, either wine or coffee.
TBH, the previous six hours are now kinda shocking.
Good f*cking luck. Your solid B Tinder date dared you
to lick your finger, search for hot dogs in your email.

You might recall that this year, I’m writing poems using phrases from a different magazine each month. This month, I’m using the March issue of Cosmopolitan, and it shows.


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