in a sea of baking powder
devising the inevitable poem
for the inevitable day
about being girl-in-world.
Gwen Stefani.
The moldy smell
that's almost like currants
the way my sweat was in college
how the half wet towel
smells now.
Basically we were just making each other mad.
I gave you water in a mug
we barked about
taillights, tolerance,
about speeding down
Rainer Avenue.
But that's not what I meant at all.
the inevitable response to the inevitable poem
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