October in Illinois, she asked if I always lied about sex. Handed me a jello shot.
Said to chase it with something sweeter & pulled Mrs. Dalloway from the shelf.
I sometimes lied. First time in a car, thighs ached for days. He squealed & I dug
my nails in his back, his dick over my belly. Don’t want you knocked up, he said.
Knocked out was more like it. Squished between him & sticky vinyl, seats exuded
musk greasing my hair—Sally stopped; picked a flower—One summer at Exxon
a boy brushed the nozzle against my calf & I climbed on his backseat. Batting
ruptured beneath us—I always lied. Never felt my insides quiver until I was alone.
Hands on crotch, visions of girls reaching between my legs—Sally kissed her
on the lips—Under a full moon, she tossed a silk rose. Lips curved around mine.
Causes chella courington Supports
Amnesty International. Planned Parenthood, NOW, Breast Cancer Research & Support, Move On.org