Poem by Spencer Lee
Art by J. Sassi
I’m malfunctioning at the pool with
my kindergarten ex-girlfriend
listening to the humdrum whir of
the air conditioner.
She has a brother
I’ve seen on Grindr;
she gets me, I’ve assumed.
We’re discussing the merits
of Uber fees over
DUI charges and all the
tall boys on skateboards
who won’t text us back.
I think you’re just
hungover, she says.
At least you’re not
a robot, she says.
But my skin’s garish white–
a blank webpage.
My face, a pop-up of
reds and blacks and blues
you can’t click away. I’m
wired to death.
Now I’m lowering my feet into aquamarine blue,
testing the temperature like I’ve somehow forgotten
what it’s like to be
pulled into
the deep end,
to be submerged
against my will, to
short-circuit my
veins at my own.
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