sydney cunniff

dear high school boys
i am yard marks on an open field. you run
home runs and collect us as notches in your bedpost.
it tickles when you scout my body. you trace
the number seven on the inside of my thighs.
seven out of ten. draw an eight--
i’ll be happy, i’ll be infinite. sweat
and rain. it pours in your bedroom and i'm caught with the flu.
my umbrella is in the birth control pills i pop
every morning. it’s in your convenient allergy to latex, to me spending
the night, and to us tag-teaming against your friends on xbox. you’re asleep
when i leave your torrential bed. i drive around and hate myself.
there’s dirt and astro-turf in my hair and sweat and sperm on my skin.
windshield wipers are ineffective
when the downpour is inside the car.
__________
sydney cunniff is the unknown variable that you can't find, nor do you really want to find, in your math homework.  she wishes she lived in san francisco and she loves sylvia plath.  you can find her blog at moleculess.tumblr.com.

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