Oh, how everything is an exhausting ploy to remain relevant.
Sometimes she glues her hair to soap and calls it art.
Our Renaissance is Instagram and swipe,
the peaches of our youth are pruning.

Let's get hung-over brunch in Brooklyn,
day-drink by the river and wear Didion-shades.
I am tired of irony's irony,
of eating ass just because it's trending.

Somewhere a cat is lounging,
unphotographed.
At the end of the day,
you are still just alone
in your bed.

We don't have to fight fire with fire
with brimstone. You don't have to hate your best
friend anymore. Instead of silently abhorring
her wanderlust, you just lie about your life
on a travel blog.

The world is your sweet, unfurling oyster
pussy-pink and pungent sour still.
I want to be the never-ending hash-tag

just feed me click-bait til I've had my fill.

04/17/2015

Posted on 04/17/2015
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer