an explosion of color and light.
hello, i have a story. i have a story. we sat knock kneed outside the limelight in knee highs with runs and ragged polyester skirts scissored just below the knees and deliberate greasy sloppy hairstyles collapsing under a mess of bobby pins. the street was dirty and the air was dirty, but so was the trash. but we crouched low on the ground kneading our knuckles into the sidewalk because that was what was to do.
I was on my bed last night thinking about the nature of girlhood, and how it’s stretched so far into my twenties by now that I’m wondering if it’ll every stop. I’m getting older now, so it’s caught up, and girlhood will push me over by the end of the race and run ahead. Then I can never escape it. I’ll get swallowed up and crawl back into the womb of a 6 foot slant cheeked full hipped blonde woman, inhaled into nothingness.
i remember cloudy dance floors and boys that would say yes. red armed scrawny boys with dirty rubber bands round their wrists.
i was on broadway and saw a group of laughing teenage girls who must have been almost 10 years younger than me, and i couldn’t see the beauty in them. they were gangly and plaque toothed and looked horrible, like how we threw barbie dolls in the bar b q coals to see them stretched out and distorted. their girlhood hasn’t caught up with them yet, they’re women first, hi town shoes, red lipstick and silky underwear. and then later on if they’re lucky they’ll become girls again.
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