tastes like grapefruit by annathepanda123, literature
Literature
tastes like grapefruit
you stare into the great depths of the sky,
and then you go home and lay down in bed,
but you keep the lights on. You don’t fall asleep.
you think about what earth looks like from a thousand miles away,
how kitchen lights can be seen from space as pinpricks of light,
and
all of humanity, all of civilization,
just looks like a flashlight shining through a spaghetti colander.
I have to tell you something because
you have the type of breathtaking prettiness that reminds me of swimming pools:
Einstein’s typist fell in love with him,
and I’ve always wondered why she did.
Maybe she fell in love with his handwriting.
I try and p
for girls who don't drink water by annathepanda123, literature
Literature
for girls who don't drink water
sugar is a familiar feeling
and carbonation is a bit like
finding constellations
in a dark blue swimming pool.
i am tired, so I drink cold
soda to stay up all night.
I hear the stars outside my window
humming
some breathy noise
in another language.
it sounds like tap water
running.
the soda cans and plastic bottles collect in my body,
filling me with flat, florescent orange liquid.
i want to be bottled,
want to be a
never-ending-almost-morning
that tastes like clementine juice, sweet like a flower field, easier to forget
than most things.
because i am tired of making the right choices,
the tabs from the endless cans
are strung onto a
17 million dollars for a house by annathepanda123, literature
Literature
17 million dollars for a house
the cab driver calls me a pretty little thing
as i get in. he starts talking quickly,
saying,
every cab in the world
got Black Ice car freshener,
but he likes this here
blue car freshener
called
New Car Smell
and the green one—he don’t know
its name no more,
but it
makes sure the cab don’t smell like cigarettes. “it don’t smell like
cigarettes in here, right?”
i say no, it doesn’t and
he says his favorite air freshener is
a light blue one
with a picture of the flower bouquet on it,
but they don’t sell that one
anywhere no more.
Everybody likes it too much.
it smells like baby powder
For Paul Going 120 in Upstate New York by annathepanda123, literature
Literature
For Paul Going 120 in Upstate New York
In Paul’s truck, I go by my middle name
or my initials. In the front seat, we take turns spitting
chewing tobacco
into a coffee thermos,
and I play with a keychain I bought him, careful
not to make too much noise.
In these seconds of sweat & silence,
I have become unfamiliar to myself. I am
no longer interested in my first name
or any other exciting misspellings of the word
love.
Every hour, on the hour,
Ghost tours pass through the streets
of our hometown,
and
I could give that ghost tour:
starting in the river,
stopping briefly at the mailbox I smashed in with a heavy rock,
and ending above Paul’s eyebrow
where he still
Feeling like San Francisco by annathepanda123, literature
Literature
Feeling like San Francisco
I am so certain
of my convictions.
It’s best to drive fast when the road feels like an empty house.
If you follow subway maps, you’ll never know where you really are. You might have gotten on the downtown 4 to Union Square, but you could be anywhere between there
and 23rd street.
I once wrote an entire novel using only the word "warmth"
I feel you can learn more about a book from its title
Than its contents.
If the road feels like the almost familiar face
of stranger you can’t quite place
but you can’t tell
if that’s just because its sadness seems accustomed
or because you know that miracles are usually j
Calendars from Poland by annathepanda123, literature
Literature
Calendars from Poland
Lipiec is July
Sierpien is August
Wrzesien is September
Świeca jabłko cynamon na stoliku is the apple cinnamon candle on your coffee table
Błyszcząca skóra na karku is the shiny skin on the back of your neck
Centrum handlowego w czasie świąt is the mall at Christmas time
Root Beer addech is root beer breath
Na tylnym siedzeniu swojego samochodu is the backseat of your car
Żarówka pali w Calgary is the lightbulb burning in Calgary
Masło barwie światła słonecznego is the butter-colored sunlight
Wiersz, który jest po prostu losowy ciąg niepowiązanych polskich s
You will buy a car, and it will smell like sleeping. And our mother will pay for it. Months of hard work to see her sad son smile. The car has no seatbelts, but you weren’t going to use them anyway, right? You were going to date a pretty girl with pretty eyes with pretty skin with pretty feet with a pretty smile who didn’t care about safety anyway, right? She will ride in the passenger seat and pick the music. She will make you feel like a person of achromatics with her pale prettiness. The world will be hue-less just the way you wanted. She will go to rehab and you will forget about her because that’s all you know how to do