my baby thinks she's a terrorist

-she seeds the sidewalk cracks with kentucky bluegrass
-she seeds the courthouse planters with poppies and kush
-she sits in rush hour traffic, tits goose pimpled and nipple hard in the autumn wind, in the middle of meridian street in her grandfather's campaign chair
-she drinks champagne and fingers herself in late night bank lobbies for atm cameras
-she reads emma goldman and mother jones
-she skateboards to her book shop barista part time gig
-she was a mid 90's adbusters centerfold, on all fours obscenely stuffed with a ronald mcdonald butt plug
-she drives drunkenly from grocery store to grocery store, leaving quarters on the carousels to be found by morning children
-she hates panties, wants to Hearst a few banks, and kill a pig or a Polanski
-she abhors food made in labs, but love the drugs that are
-she has ink and plugs and beeswax dreads and an old bus that daddy's checks pay the insurance on (as well as the stomach pumpings)
-she offers a sly fuck you to the passing ski patrol


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