I wish I could get that time back.
I don’t care. I don’t care!
As a kid in Nashville, I was waiting
like pretty much everyone on the planet,
falling for bad boys, damaged people.
I once would have worried about pain,
shaken to my core. What are we doing?
It’s fucking delicious, what happened.
Nobody cared about the big lie:
a freckling of cigarette burns,
a razor inside my clothes.
Here’s a bonus post, to catch up on the time that I’ve been mostly at home because of COVID-19 (prevention of, that is). This poem tracks a bit more logically than many others in this magazine series—and I actually was a kid in Nashville for a short time.