Reid@YWP

It's lying on its back 

on a large flat rock,

exposed to the grayish sky like an offering 

to some odd god.

There's a hole in its breast, 

we sat and imagined fireflies

flitting between the tops of the RVs

as the sun disappeared into muggy,

illicit sludge. we realized we both liked

 the sticky-sweet taste of summer

summer's like  /  skips on a record player, pink and beat up by two moving vans and two generations of children who danced to the Bee Gees on  /  rugs that aren't there anymore  /  i have successfully wasted three mon

You 

love me 

fast, miss me 

faster, I ran to 

you, now running away takes 

much longer. To get to you  

Is this really what it means to be American? 

To say: Only certain people can be who they are. 

To start wars. 

To cause pain. 

To put others beneath you.