Rumor has it that
there are peacocks in Osceola,
but I was more blown away
by the forklift operator that ate Swedish
Fish off a toothpick like a kabob &
mentioned his interest in Elton John’s music,
only before John was a homosexual.
A bulb in someone’s Ford Ranger headlight
blinds another wild dog.
The End of Growing Up One Way
You, I, and all, under twinkling pearls of the universe,
the minutes elapse, the inches towards caskets.
Too much etcetera is measured out for the children:
news anchors floundering in controversy,
diaristic outpourings and nude fury,
love’s swift concussion but still giving back a smile,
limb-expanding sequences until we have snapped
out of the concept forever,
but what always remains is the
familiar scent of pinewood and chlorine,
or inhaling thickened air
from dewdrops tipped on the grass.
It’s like a Robotrip without consequence
while frame-shots overlapping are overlooked…
Do you remember when fuck
became a favorite for the phonic sweetness?
like lip-wetting stolen rum in structural vacancy,
while augmenting your own chronological “I am”.
BROOKE NICOLE PLUMMER made it onto the Dean’s List in the summer of 2017, with each assignment and major project attached to her “student profile avatar”, which is a picture of Psyduck chugging alcohol. Her work has appeared in Wordplay Anthology, (b)OINK zine, Ursus Americanus Press, and various academic journals. She is one of the current editors of Retirement Plan, a literary journal based out of the Midwest.