Fancy Girl. Jasen Boone's Sousa

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СКАЧАТЬ ones that are done by a friend of a friend for cheap money

      at a house party. They ain’t even black, they’re like green,

      Cadillac Chris with his green Cadillac

      logo tattooed over his heart. Everyone needs

      to love something, right?

      Like me:

      Deanna. A single mother who will do anything

      to get out of the projects, even

      if it means taking off my top, pulling down my pants, and filling

      up my pockets with dirty money.

      In Somerville, sometimes you just become things

      to be something.

      LAST NIGHT’S DREAM

      My apartment infested:

      cockroaches.

      Stained toilet seat cover hung

      half-way off,

      couldn’t see water in the bowl, toilet paper,

      cigarettes, funky

      combination of piss and shit.

      Someone stabbed

      outside my door, hallway

      of the Mystic Projects.

      Cops and paramedics left, couple

      in the apartment next door cursed

      for two hours, made-up

      for longer.

      Became nauseous, smell

      of curry floating, Indian

      couple down the hall.

      Heard rats run

      through walls

      behind my headboard,

      last night’s dream,

      today’s reality.

      I DON’T KNOW HOW MANY TIMES

      I don’t know how many times

      I have looked out my window and seen

      a street lamp and mistaken it

      for the sun.

      I don’t know how many times

      I have looked out my window and seen

      red and blue flashing lights

      and thought they were coming for me.

      I don’t know how many times

      I have looked out my window and seen

      cigarette ashes disappear into the sidewalk

      and thought it was magic.

      I don’t know how many times

      I have looked out my window and seen

      the blinking lights of a departing plane

      and wished I was on it.

      LOOKING GLASS

      A boy punched

      Maddy in the face

      at school today.

      Gave her a black eye.

      I feel like

      I am looking

      in a mirror.

      A broken mirror.

      A spotted mirror

      that gets smudged,

      spit on and fogged

      up by boys

      who are no longer able

      to see their

      own reflection.

      At some point boys

      look in mirrors

      and don’t see themselves,

      don’t see girls anymore.

      They see objects. They see things

      which they don’t think are human.

      They think it’s cool

      to draw their initials

      on our foggy skin.

      I try to wipe away

      the fog, the bruise,

      but it doesn’t go away.

      It won’t go away.

      I have to get Maddy

      away from here before the skin

      on her mirror is broken

      like mine.

      PLAYING WITH A PRINCESS

      Maddy tells me about a friend’s house

      she went to visit after school in Lexington.

      “Mommy, you wouldn’t believe it,

      it was like a palace! It had shiny floors,

      a huge back yard,

      a pool,

      and even an awesome dog!

      You should have seen her room!

      She had a wicked awesome computer

      and a closet full of princess clothes!”

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