autobiography in fragments

picture a kitschy hot pink velveteen jacket:

lettuce-hemmed, a violent fuschia, oh-so 2000s.

picture knee-high sketchers: metallic black, violet

shoelaces, toe-ends that sparkled and flashed

with every stomp.

picture blunt bangs cut with kitchen scissors and

shitty glitter nail polish from claire's and fingers

turned green by $1 mood rings.

picture dance recitals that smell like old l'oreal

foundation sticks 2 shades too dark and taste like

movie popcorn and feel like sequin rash on

shoulders.

picture the first ever sleepover, spent giggling over

pitch perfect (2012) and too many cheez balls and

tropicana fruit punch and mocha chip ice cream

and papa gino's in the neighbor's basement.

picture laying on a cool wooden porch in the damp

summer heat that smells like ripe fresh mulch and

tastes like cheap crowell's rainbow sherbet and

feels like crying out every last tear in the body and

then some more.

i'm saving them all tonight with the click of a needle-cap.