sized bags of goldfish crackers just for the chance to

touch something intangible. to show off tattoos they

got while holding hands with one another, screaming

the words to a song that saved their life or makes them

happy or maybe just reminds them of how beautiful it

is to be alive, how absolutely wonderful it is to sing in

a crowd that knows every key change by heart. the

girls that have only ever been a part of something

bigger than themselves. the girls that wave pride flags

and kiss their partners and hand out hair ties like

they’re compliments. the girls that trade water with

strangers, lips to lips to lips, trusting that everyone

here is safe because they are, they have to be, how

else would they have gotten through the door? why

else would they have sweat through their tee shirts or

shivered through their jeans, borrowed their uncle’s

old tent and stretched out on blankets that have seen

better days? why else if it isn’t some sort of

untouchable magic, a silent understanding that

everybody belongs in this collective space? this is for

the girls that look discomfort in the face until it backs

away in shame. the girls that tuck portable phone

chargers in their back pockets and memorize setlists.

the girls with ripped band shirts and flower crowns.

the girls waking up the next morning at 6am for

reality. the girls without a family that understands the

weird mix of heartbreak and joy they’re capable of

holding in their hands. the girls that believe.

you are heard. you are seen. you are here to stay.

LOVE POEM FOR PAUL

I love you like reading outdoors in late July.

I love you like fireworks against black skies, how

if you close your eyes they stay there for just a few

seconds longer.

I love you like moths wanting the porch light, getting

it, and then not landing on it because they’re

too excited to enjoy it.

I love you like getting caught in the rain

when there’s an umbrella under your arm.

I love you like waiting for our downstairs neighbor to

leave so we can dance to Glenn Miller on your record

player, because my cousin’s wedding is soon and if I

stepped on you in heels it would probably hurt.

I love you like washing our clothes in the same load

of laundry.

I love you like the squeal of my rusty brakes piercing

the slow morning air.

I love you like the birds in Delmar sing.

I love you like the Kit Kat bar in the refrigerator that

you brought home because I’m on my period.

I love you like a full refrigerator.

I love you like an ice cube, clinking against

a sweaty glass.

I love you like the day before my birthday.

I love you like Halloween.

I love you like every stupid cliché that’s ever been