It’s Our First Date and I Leave For College Next Week

No rizz, but I’d tie your roller skates for you. This entire disco is a flock of songbirds. Everyone drops their fists and beats to the beat of 90s night—we’re singing to The Cardigans. You wink at me as you mouth every word. Suddenly I remember I’m a man, because I don’t know what the signal meant or what I want it to mean. I tuck my sunglasses through my neckline. To get a better look, of course. Please, don’t remind me how I’m gonna see the world through these Eddie Bauers; the road is paved with quietness. Wanna tag along? We could let our hair down and get fat on mahamri. No retirement, but I'd stitch your bootstraps. All the men here and all the men I can be are taking this derby way too seriously. When the rats flatten me, will you scrape me off the rink? Would you unknot my knuckles so I could brush your dimples? It’s a comfort I've only imagined. But enough for now. Why don’t you swerve over and yank my blouse? If you kiss me here, my eyes will burn rubber with the taste of you.

Gavin Garza

Gavin Garza was raised in the Institute of Basic Life Principles, a Christian cult. Today, he is a Chicano poet and memoirist studying English at UC Berkeley. His work has been nominated for Best of the Net, and has been featured in MudRoom, The Acentos Review, Eucalyptus Lit, Five Minutes, Bullshit, and forthcoming in Bulb Culture Collective. He loves Wilco. Find him @gavinopoet.

https://x.com/gavinopoet
Next
Next

October