The asses of teenagers
the sun warms the asses of teenagers teenagers have no idea where the day will take them but we have a pretty good idea the sun passes over our asses easily resisting them across the street, long grass sways in the sun our asses are freezing in fake denim jeans and layers upon layers of scratchy discount long johns teenagers flash their asses outside the movie theater at night blinding deer and making friends we just keep using our asses for sitting but teenagers are beyond their asses wading through a sea of ideas their boredom is pure and crystalizes while our boredom stops up the sink and wears down watch batteries the sun sees in teenagers something to warm and pulls them towards the unpopulated, interesting corners of town while the unforgiving cold ushers us back into our cavernous apartments to sit on our asses and stress about life
It is illegal to like you
I am a hermit glued in a castle and you, a former Taliban photographer studying bullshit abroad I must be the daughter of someone important because I wear a headdress I languish and parts of me die on hold for Quest Diagnostics I listen to your heart and hear nature’s fucked clock I read you easily like a book with a low reading level or baby Suess’s scribbled journal you look like a meter with the coin stuck in the slot you slip through my fingers like sand from a souvenir random habits you’ve picked up and kept sit inside you like strangers on a bus behold your future, that thing obstructing the sun and your past, a tedious board game played as punishment I receive you resolutely the way I carry recycling out I take your hand like a squid missing from the aquarium your disdain is Disdain 101 a class I placed out of in high school your tears are worth something they make my thighs feel like swan meat and thunder I requill my own sex-history into striped bed sheets a teenaged sticky thinking I tell the story of the Jews to a distracted hanger-on when I was small I met my dark side under a lake I wrote your name in the snow with my Ouija shoe I heard your hair in the night but now your eyes benign heat seekers the day, a discount ribbon I ruin my fingers and decent pre-childbirth body paraphrasing another woman’s manifesto while my ferret eats through my cords the tree looked like an old wizard dying at an art museum wake up and be him I demanded of you wrap your robes tightly curse the sand in your lenses remember me like the doll you had before your Dad beheaded it
He’s got a huge soho loft, but no dick
he’s got a really big vocabulary but no dick to speak of he’s got a motorcycle parked in the garage but still… he’s never had a dick or lost it? I’m in his loft, like where is it? he shows me his watch collection his high thread count he has a valuable stock portfolio I left feeling amiss I called my friend He’s got a great personality but no dick, I said Front row tickets to the concert, but… he called and I put my friend on hold he said, I have something for you I said, Did I leave my bag? he said, Yes, you left your bag but I have something else to show you and I felt a ripple of life within me I walked hurriedly back to his loft Look, he said holding it in his hands it twisted around his arm its little tongue felt like sandpaper It’s endangered, he said It’s my brother’s, he admitted it pumped with air it curled like smoke I’d never seen anything like it What is that? I asked ready for love
My naked princess
you have the right face for everything except charity work except zookeeper
What I’m gonna do to you
first I’m gonna strip you of your stupid clothes then I’m gonna check my phone for new texts then I’m gonna check out Pippi Longstocking’s Wikipedia page first I’m gonna get naked then I’m gonna pace like a security guard then I’m gonna RSVP to my friend’s baby shower (you don’t have to go) first I’m gonna take your dick in my mouth then I’m gonna complain about my job at Urban Outfitters I’m naked and crawling toward you but I gotta take out recycling floss pay Comcast bill return library book call my Mom back let’s do it after I return that picture frame at Target wash the yams fix clogged drain in shower I want you naked and hard then I’ll clean crumbs off the counter I want you tied to the bedposts high off dick pills hungry for pussy then I’ll tell you a funny thing my friend said and write in this Thank You card to someone’s Nanna
Rachel B. Glaser is the author of Pee On Water, MOODS, and Paulina & Fran. These poems appear in her collection HAIRDO from Song Cave (Spring 2017).