i like white nectarines
but not yellow ones
i like white peaches
but not yellow ones
i like white grapes
but not red ones-
i swear i’m not a racist-
i like cheez-its if they’re out of a container but
NOT out of a bag.
i’m just a little weird
in a tolerable way, i think. i hope.
i’m a slytherin but i’m also in
amity, and i guess that means i’m a
vegetable farmer with a rebellious streak.
i guess it means i find myself
in the middle of violence and bad ideas,
even though i
crave the peace.
my cousin calls me narc,
not as in ‘narcissist’
not as in 'narco'-
the spanish word for ‘drug dealer’-
narc as in narcoleptic
not because i’m narcoleptic but because
i honestly could be.
i never learned to say pecan 'pe-KAWN' or
salmon 'SA-mun'
so i say things like
'PEE-kin' and 'SAL-mun' and people say that
when i’m mad-
which is often-
i get a thick hispanic accent and, well,
i guess our demons are in all of us.
i’m a fish out of water that can’t swim,
can't live on land or otherwise
there are only 84 girls in my
graduating class and
8 of them are named sofia, so don’t take it
personally if you say my name and
i don’t bother turning around
it’s just very unlikely that it’s me.
i hate sports-
sorry, athletes-
i’ve just never seen the point of running
around in circles and
throwing a ball in a hole
i’d rather go for a walk in the suburbs and
see the kids in their swim shorts at the
community pool
old guys washing precious cars and their
women making dinner while watching the real
housewives of whatever county and
it’s all so strange to me, how people live,
and even stranger how they die in a hospital
with white walls and a monitor beeping
away their time,
surrounded by ironic cards and
creepy stuffed bears
that don’t mean anything.
i don’t know.
i’m not scared of the act of death, i have no
issue with the pain
i don’t mind if my photo is on
nobody’s ofrenda,
i don’t mind if they forget
i just want to bleed out in the snow
with douglas firs above me
and no one around me to
upset.
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