Malibu
The pain is incomparable.
It’s– ;
.
⧫
I want to punch a wall–
skin and clean my knuckles in plaster.
I want to go to the ER
for something tangible.
⧫
If I was a dog, I would have been put down by now.
⧫
I want to be a Malibu Barbie Doll to
pull apart my joints and scrub the disease out.
I want Malibu Ken to not leave even when
I throw up out our Malibu Pink Convertible window.
⧫
If I have to be on display,
I’ll dance.
If I have to dance,
I’ll pick the thumbtacks out of my tendons later.
⧫
You know those Facebook videos where a paralyzed pit bull gets their first wheelchair My first day with one, I played the same way.
⧫
I tattooed LOL on my knee because my knees don’t work. LOL.
⧫
Buzzed Bratz bring brambles past the ‘Bus.
They pity Ken and snicker at me. They’re jealous;
even with a heart and joint condition,
I’m better in bed than those bitches, bitches.
⧫
No one pushes a pit bull in a wheelchair out of their way.
⧫
If I was a dog, the vets would have done everything they could have.
⧫
I hate Malibu.
I want to move to Boston.
⧫
Some Call It Greed
I want that corny-ass joy shit. Like carnations
& collarbones adorning me – all slip,
no mascara stains or bruised knees.
A place where old fashioneds taste good
and neither locks nor lockpicks exist.
I want a skeleton in a wheelchair – with a
CUNT fan! – pussy popping to Alaska
Thunderfuck 5000’s newest song. I want
to go to the Gay ‘90s and dance to Britney &
Xtina with my drink three counters away. A
city where dykes on bikes get to have
any roads & tires they want. I want
all animals to wear bowties, or spikes, or
David Bowie shirts. I want to admire taxidermy
while wearing booty shorts that don’t have
to say “DON’T TOUCH” in the middle of New
York’s hottest club. A dive bar where green tea
and tequila shots are free because money
doesn’t exist; here, everything is clean, and nothing
is sanitized. I want drag kings to appear
on Rupaul’s Drag Race just to snatch their
waists and the crown tighter than Violet
Chachki. I want gender to only exist as a far away
planet, preferably Pluto or Uranus for obvious &
queer reasons. A forever & always accepting &
kinky Pride festival that is only void of rescue
pets on weekends because everyone got a home. A
dying economy where no one can afford a home since,
again, money doesn’t exist; here, we cry all day
& laugh all night. It’s better to be dehydrated when
others are there, awake & loving. I want communities
that raise communities that raise generations that
won’t have to die in unfit & uncaring hands. I
thought I just wanted a future.
Laurel Reynolds
Laurel Reynolds (she/they) is a poet who attends the University of Minnesota for English Literature. Her work often explores the connections between queerness, pop culture, trauma, and relationships. In 2019, they competed at Brave New Voices for Minnesota and made it to the semi-final rounds. Laurel’s poems have been featured at The Tower, The Current, The Incandescent Review, and TruArtSpeaks. Check them out at laurelreynolds.com!
