It’s 1990. I’ve shut the door to my bedroom, like any self-respecting teenage girl, to listen to my new CD¬¬–the one I ordered for a penny from one of those promotional if-you-sign-up-we’ll-give-you-the-world catalogs....more
Posts Tagged: Neil de la Flor
A Litany of Wants
I want to erase my name from this poem so I can write what I want to write.
I want the two badass Brazilian guys in line to line up like erect oil slicks and pull down their jockstraps and not say a word, ever.
Googlism for Steve
Steve is in my closet.
Steve is non-industrious and totally asexual.
Steve is still alive somewhere in the world.