do you think 
i don’t see your brows
slope into velvety, charcoal lined
slides of disappointment
when i tell you i want to spend 
my days nursing my lifelong 
love affair with sentences?


“very nice.” 
sometimes i think 
your clay head will bob down 
one day and never come back up.
your spine will be permanently bent
from the labors you slaved over 
as you tried to force my restless 
spirit into a respectable Latina 
lady.
and it worked during...

Quinn Collins was an anomaly. 
on the day he met her, he wore flimsy neon finger gloves with an orange angora turtleneck he found in his mom’s basement, buried under a pile of old Mary Kay products she’d cast away once she realized how much you had to sell to even smell the leather of a Pink Cadillac. Argyle socks were paired with jeans he rolled up so they’d purposefully have wide cuffs. And he couldn’t forget about his Docs. ...