As Dry And Warm As Southern California By An Lin Hunt-Babcock
I wonder, where all this water came from. Even though she complains about my oily hair, the dirt beneath my nails, she still hates the water bill the most and I don’t blame her I blame the rivers we’re stealing from Because they’re all speaking French and seductively tonguing the syllables of suburban homes for soil and calling it Gardening She jaywalks and calls it being a New Yorker Encourages me to start knowing how to write checks to the water company Wear high heels and a thong She’s a cat with a long tail that urges me to come closer I don’t want to I’ve been here too many times and I’m afraid of her All-American spirit, she sips the water from the hose, mixes her teeth with the metallic tastes I don’t want to join in anymore So I will sit in this window and watch her as long as I can until my scalp is stretched to its limit, she will continue to knead with the same palms she’s holding the hose while it keeps pouring
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