Owego, NY Sophia Ivey

Owego, NY (part 1)

Sophia Ivey

You said the flies that swarmed my car were an omen—

Owego, New York, mid-June, we drove up to the cemetery at the top of Evergreen Mountain.

—“Did you know Mary Shelley lost her virginity on top of her mother’s grave?” —“That’s fucked”

We left a mini bottle of Fireball at Sa Sa Na Loft’s memorial and I picked wildflowers and spread them while you aimed pennies at her head.

Skipping over graves and throwing pebbles over the mountain, you asked if I liked you enough to have sex; I shrugged and we walked to the car, horse flies swam in the air above my white impala— it was night and you scared the shit out of me with your eager smile

–“The last time I saw this many horse flies was at my grandpa’s farm, when all the cows got sick after the 2011 flood”

We smoked the cigarettes you stole from your mom and threw the buds at Sa Sa Na Loft— Bad omens weren’t hard to find.