Someday you’ll be dead so you should absolutely go have sex right now
Your girlfriend is up on the hill braiding the pink threads of day
into her hair. If you have a minute, go pick her some of those things
that grow wild along the side of the highway. Take her out, win her
a teddy bear. Buy her some of that swill she likes to drink
and go get wasted. After all, she’s the flickering neon sign
in the dive bar of your life. She’s the bubbles in your big gulp.
Look at her up there, moving like newspaper in the wind. The look
in her eyes is a passing train. Go see her. Go talk to her.
It’s summer, dipshit. Open your earholes. The birds are singing.
Elizabeth Hutchinson is a poet and gardner living in Salem, MA, She mostly wears sweatpants.