Sexual Fantasies by Devon Roberts

Lucky

Jared Berberabe

The interviewer says, “Do you consider yourself lucky?” I want to answer, but instead I’m traveling back to old conversations Where I learned what I’ve missed.

I’ve never gone into a mosh pit, Throbbed to the melodic tones Of some punk rock band whose name, I sense, Is part of the fossil record of 2004 to 2012, Nor left myself breathless after that night, Caught on the high of the moment, convinced That I’d finally touched peak freedom Adulthood had so continuously hidden from me.

And I’ve never lost my virginity In the back of my dad’s Subaru On some wintry Friday night in the 7/11 parking lot, Giving moans and curses the same name To fill that empty cargo hold with ourselves.

Nor have I believed in the stars, Consulted the horoscope section of the newspaper, Worried that, by chance, I’d pissed off the wrong planet And that they’d decided to free up some time Just to fuck with my day.

My therapist says it’s good I’ve never gone to a concert, Because the only company I’d enjoy would be my anxiety. I’ve never found a public bathroom to be the place To vomit, but the sickest I’ve been Was when I just reached triple digits on the scale Only to drop to double