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The Mustang rolled up in the low black water,
Growling softly, then it stopped and purred.
Dark green paint like a deep flavor,
Like hard, sour-apple candy catching in my throat.A hint of his blond swoop, the red button of his cigarette.
Smoke out the window. Sterling:
His name like a sword reflecting light in a dark room.
I'm the sword swallower.
And the grass licked my shoes."Please, Please, Please"Now the picture had him in it
Up the red path
To my house
In his coal tux
Slicked like a wet cat.
I did my best in a lime-green dress.
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Inside they each had some from his flask;
And Sterling smiled a toothy smile, yellow and sharp.And then we danced.
Not to one song, but ten songs.
It was the scene where the audience came over to my side,
Because I got what I wanted.I was in love with a cliché.Boys his age have bodies like knives.
I was holding one by the blade."Girlfriend in a Coma"Megan McKenna had a skinhead boyfriend,
He crashed his car into a pole.
The paramedics lifted her out of the crumpled car,
And laid her on the cement. They cut away her jeans.Sterling and I fought all the time,
Driving around in his rotten green Mustang.
I was the sweetest sixteen,
And when we hit the other car
Darkness met me at the windshield.My father kept Sterling from the room.
I was plastered and sutured and puffed up.When I go to heaven,
I'll think of Sterling.
I'll think that I loved him.
I'll think that he was human.
That he was a poor little brain in a dangerous body.