take summer for what it’s supposed to be
eleven years old,
dingy shacks that smell like mildew
and a lake that refuses to be heated by the sun
but it’s ninety degrees
aren’t we all just trying to take our clothes off?

summer camp where we can’t kayak
and all the older boys look hand-sculpted by God
I was convinced they were put here
for me.

this twenty-something sweetheart
he can do push-ups with little girls on his back
and I’m here asking
why wasn’t I pretty enough
as if a ten year age gap
is nothing

some things never change.

I made gimp keychains and scraped my knees
got angry when I realized Caelyn’s wrists were littler than mine
no one wants “chicken arms” anyway.

and Marco’s playing tag
with those twenty-something legs
twenty-something mouth
I worship the ground he walks on
but as a twenty-something,
he doesn’t give a fuck.

eight years later and
I can’t get their eyes off of me.

now I drive like a maniac
just to get to the shore
where it’s so cold I
want to smoke two packs of cigarettes
and the dead deer on the side of the road
makes me need three.

neck snapped and its innards spread thinly on the gravel
I know an omen when I see one and
I’m gonna kill myself trying to forget it.

and the beach is cloudy
waveless ocean I just want to drown in
but the seagulls beg me to leave
just before I see two crows:
that’s one short of a murder.

tell me
how could this get any worse?

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