Postcards to Amsterdam

“I’d rather die terrified than live forever.” Is that true? Are you real?
Waif, according to the English dictionary, still means…well, I’ll let you look it up. But it doesn’t make me like it any less that she calls me green-eyed and deserted.


Rose! Where ever have you gone. I can put signs up, I’ll staple them to trees with my teeth, but I know I won’t find your wishes hanging from these branches. You're the new Paperbag Princess.

And that shy boy, who carefully filled his pockets with strawberry condoms and blushed terribly when he caught my eye; I thought he said his name was Orchid. What shapes make you cry? Oranges. Wristwatches. Nothing else. I want the word YES and I want a beating heart tattooed in between my collarbones. Accidental ecstasy.

Megan unwrapped and opened the box of art and sweets on the fourth day.
Megan says, Now your glitter’s all wet.
She says, Sometimes I don’t think we are so doomed and tragic.
She says, Sometimes I think we might be lucky, with all the lust and love. Heartbreakers yield great power!

We wait long hours at the shuttle stop (after it roars obnoxiously past without pause) until a purple-sweatered girl says, Oh! Let’s have the party here! We have full bottles and full hearts! And boys in high suede boots tried to flag down cars. Gayby says, flash a titty, flash ‘em. He stands out in the road himself, and pulls his shirt down by the neck. A car flashes past, and Gayby returns to a disappointed curb.

For the holidaze, Sunboy and I lit up in the rain, sitting close in the meditation garden. A beautiful rainbow cigarette case full of hand-rolled, carefully. I’d packed my bag full of mint milanos and chocolate milk. We die as ourselves.

He’s mine. Do you wish I were yours? Don’t worry don’t worry don’t worry. When I kiss you, I shall never think of beige.

Sunboy fell asleep in my arms. Tumbled down beside me and when I saw his lips go soft, I knew- as do we all with all our lovers.
- I’m sorry to interrupt your work.
- Work?
- The book you were reading…
- Oh, it’s not work. I was reading e e cummings.
Yes yes yes. Sunboy, sit as you are, always, on my bed with your books of poetry and with the sunlight coming in underneath the blind that is a chorus of yeses in itself and bathes the nape of your neck in sunset.

Sara's smile matches heartbeats and wings.

Sara says, I saw a cloud yesterday that reminded me of you.
Sara says, It was tall and the very tip-top was stained purple and orange.
She says, I just thought you should know I saw you in the sky.

I worry my words become trite and dull when I fall in love. It’s all euphemisms and sunflowers. Maybe I’m better bitter and falling. Current love affair with ampersands & I would have hated this version of myself in highschool. But I don’t mind. Love? Naked picnic, lounging and chocolate kisses, drinking the rest of the red wine from the bottle.

Veins under skin. I stumbled upon yet another indie disco. My fridge is overflowing with chocolate and packets of mayonnaise stolen from the cafe. I can’t watch violence, but give me two hits and you’ll hit the floor before your eyes divide. I like raw meat and I like thunderstorms.

For my 21st birthday, I want money and a meat grinder.