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lisa & ginny
same apartment building dry grass homeroom
lisa pioneer country mouse string bean knobby knees
ginny urban jungle ice cubes glamorous flirty handwriting i’s heart dotted
stolen cigarettes
bathroom smoking
nausea coughing lying
ginny dad gone
mom dating truckers
tube tops nipples tattoos freckles
crooked teeth fingers stained
offer lisa beer pull it away
peed pants in trans am
bud cig in hand
kids afraid
lisa could leave
gin had to stay
ginny’s brother
fine white blond hair
lisa’s crush
ginny’s mom teasing
sending lisa to the store with him
i know you want to
stayed in room t-shirt arms cut off blasting metal
night lisa awake
gin’s brother in covers mound
joke
what if lisa kissed him her
sunk to floor fear
morning laughing
fell out of bed
stealing sprees
metallic model nameplates off cars
Mustangs
allowances plastic model horses
competed most cutest never played just displayed
plain white plaster horse Santa Monica Pier
milk Dad for money weekend visit
city bus driver big blond mustache
ski-ball bumper cars junk food popcorn
old men fishing
line cast too far hooked Dad’s cheek
carefully work it out afraid tear huge skin hole
crowd formed wearing shades
everything spinning slow motion
waited giant man-bodies
puke up corn-dog
Dad emerged acted like no big deal totally freaked out don’t want you to know
two tiny holes left cheek filled with blood took napkin away
didn’t know what to say nausea fear lingered without voice
plaster figurines tacky clowns jesus reliefs bunny rabbits
chalk dust hanging in air touching white stains
teacher forgot leaned butt against blackboard
walked horse aisle wait till one caught eye kept it
all wanted to go home join collection on top of orange desk
always important to choose right one
full grown thoroughbred plaster grass one leg raised mid-trot neighed loudest
took home cradling fear of dropping
break into a million powdery pieces
spent full eight hours next day painting meticulously
brown body black main tail hoofs white star forehead Black Beauty bright green grass
lisa could never beat that no matter what
thefts
auto sales lots
sneaking in and out among cars avoid salesmen
more challenging than back alley car port robberies
more concealed, dangerous
armed with backpack screwdrivers prying
slip out of apartments meet laundry room out back alley
strict logistical strategies memorized before departure
stand around like we were waiting for a ride checkin’ out cars
watching ready specially designated signal loud cough cat’s meow
Run like hell!
meet inside Aaron Scott Furniture Rustic Bedroom Set display room
dibs on every last object ashtray fireplace poker
fake rooms reminded me of my Grandmother’s house
nobody ever told us to leave or to get off the merchandise
they knew we were fugitives
better not mess with us
armed and dangerous ready to defend our booty
trillionaires if they questioned our presence they’d lose out on the sale of a lifetime
gave up life of crime
three pillowcases full of car model emblems
nothing to do but sort and polish them
couldn’t exactly say
Hey Mom, look what I stole!
buried under the pathetic expanse of dead grass surrounding apartment building
then we moved to the Valley
townhomes are so much more bitchin’ than apartments
dishwasher pool-table cable tv
smoking
stole cigarettes from mom
hid in bathroom
matches from Bob’s Liquor walk home from school
knew my mom would miss Bic lighter
used to throw tantrum every time she lost it
order us to help her look tear couch apart find it
that’s where she spent most of her time
lit each other’s
watched in medicine cabinet mirror
tried to look natural like movies
like moms looked
leaned heads back luxuriously with each exhale struck glamorous poses
“You’ve come a long way, Baby” billboard
decided we looked at least as cool as the big kids at the back fence
could hold between pointer finger and middle finger
could blow smoke up in slow smooth stream
lisa coughing
I had drags of my mom’s before so it was almost no problem
faucet loud while lisa sputtered I confessed to slight nausea
lied and said I liked the taste okay
lisa did the same always trying too hard to be cool really biggest geek ever
stayed a long time so smell would go away
my mom knew anyway
didn’t care watching ‘Price is Right’
Gabrielle Jennings is a Los Angeles writer and artist whose work mines our collective unconscious, often through appropriation. Her work is forthcoming on 7x7la, and her poetry appeared in the most recent issue of Fence Magazine and in her recent collection entitled Fugue. Jennings teaches in the Graduate Art program at ArtCenter College of Design, and her work can be found at her website and Instagram page.