everyday the sun 

beats down on me 

reminding me of the 

joie de vivre 

it’s fucking unbearable 

the clean cement 

and garter snakes 

that slice the grass 

the lawn angels 

chubby and fixed

eternally tragic  

the pure aged whiskey 

the fresh tapped beer 

the smoke smell.. 

I carry it all in my hair 

with the fucking laughter 

and the sting 

the stinging 

i wish i you were here 

would i love you 

would you love me 

if i was beautiful? 

more beautiful.. 

or distant 

instead of cute 

and pleading? 

i’m not cute 


not cute. 

I know 

my thigh gap 

is missing 

you are the gap 

that is missing 

this awareness is 



– sheila c. 

11 thoughts on “suburb

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