Sky Jackson                              

Vodka                                               

who put vodka in my snowball?
i’ll be your belle, if you become my beast
so ignore the magic mirror on the ground, fogging up our private parts on the clear, beneath our feet –

if you want, i’ll paint your toes dandelion yellow because it’s fall and you’re against the purple of the season.

you can paint my fingers black because i’m pretty much for and against it all. i’ll play that pearl jam song

that you like so well, jeremy, because he is who this (she / he)* used to be. you kiss my smooth white belly, i laugh as you

drop

puh-leazz go lower til i tell you to stop
meanwhile, i look at the floor, cuz i threw your turquoise hair pin right there. i love that you feed my lust-like rage

with tower tall bacon burgers your breasts and bud light, just so cold.

i’m amazed when i see you through your father’s glass window: slice a mango, unpit a peach, (rip my heart out why dontcha) and somehow remove the slinky yellow
from the center of the egg

don’t worry, i know you change like gizmo, that’s why I don’t feed you at night –
at least, not with food, anyway

we go to the park and you wanna drink until the trees sway but we’re too young to buy daiquiris, so you cleverly slip stolen vodka into my blood ice snowball.

i’m full of excuses, but seriously, i’d really give you diamonds and pearls
if i could be completely sure whether not you’re a boy or a girl –
it doesn’t matter, anyway,
you’re only slender body and buzzkilled brain
so, i’ll enter you
and come
and go

as I please.

it’s ok, baby, seriously,
i only took your technical virginity