Horoscope
O apricot jam, O Hoover Dam, can can, disco fan. Do you remember that pizza place with the cheesy pun for a name back in Boulder? I love the way piping hot pizza burns the roof of your mouth when you’re trying to be patient. We eat cherries and talk about how everyone’s a zionist, how white queers took Boulder over for the sake of diversity, told us “our God” wasn’t one they believed in. It didn't matter to us, anyway. We love sweat and salt and sleepiness, turquoise, coral, sweet-sweet mint tea. O leg hair, O paper tear, bird in the bay sneeze, snot in the tree breeze. I find it redundant, haven’t honestly missed anything save for lemons, olive oil, sun in months.