i've been dreaming of garter snakes,
ever since that time my dad made us
carry the wood and the bricks the mile
to the house and you declared
"i'm out
of shape",
you're always complaining
and i was tired of it so i
went inside only to hear you
screaming,
"its a snake, its a snake"
it's only a garter snake,
i replied,
and then you started chasing it
before explaining your paranoia.
now i'm dreaming of them every night,
hundreds of them weaving through
roots and acorns as i jump along
the hardened ground trying desperately
to stay out of their way.
the boys used to pick up those snakes
all the time and i guess my fear diminished
with the amount of time we spent telling
each other secrets and playing spin the
bottle under the raft.
i'm dreaming of them all the time and i can't
stop thinking of you either.
my dreams now successfully consist of
you smoking a joint, driving by in your car,
you smoking a joint, holding my knee,
you giving me crystal meth and cocaine,
you screaming about garter snakes,
you luring me into the empty bathtub
while i try to hide the drugs in my bra
and my back pockets,
and shopping for kiss-lock purses as a reward for my
good behaviour
(imagine a purse like that
packaged full of snakes like them).
ps. i can't believe your arrogance or
your pessimism, of course the bricks
and pieces of wood will fit down the narrow
hall.
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