georgia says you're never coming back

A man plays tennis in an empty playground, spits black tobacco from black teeth, kisses black girls on black top with pink lips, white mouth. Squinting against orange sun, two girls chop off each other’s hair with rusty scissors, thumbs wet and bloody.

Lola, cheeks dry and flaky, waits for the bus.
Lola, two tongues, no teeth, holds a frog skull in her palm.

Hair in a bun, she asks the man if she could play tennis too. Hair in a bun, she breaks the emergency box, hears no siren, only croaking. A nice man in a red suit sprays her with foam and her dress is burnt black, the croaking stops and her hair is cut, thumbs wet and bloody too.

Maybe gasoline in her white mouth, spaces between her no teeth. She wins the lottery twice in one day, buys a pair of scissors and scratches the dust out of her cheeks. Maybe carved a hand out of frog skull, swamp smear on blacktop. Maybe finch kisses with black boys in white suits, sky wet and bloody too.

1 month ago | 113 notes

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