Wildfires in the distance,

it is summer

my hands are ants on a keyboard—

I never learned to type, 

but I learned to ask questions/

alone, not lonely,

I want human contact, 

but not if I can smell it.

I want to imagine that words on a screen can mean, 

that love lives in there too—

I shave my head because humidity lives on my top lip, 

I am 20/F/L.A., 

because I refuse to say I’m from “La Puente.”

No one gives a fuck about this place,

I am ashamed 

that this is where my story became a story—

I am curtains drawn, and Marlboro Reds,

I am broccoli & cheese hot pockets, 

I am Kern’s mango nectar,

nectar.

necktar.

nektar:  the word is derived as a compound of nek, meaning death, and tar, meaning the ability to overcome.

I toast abundant.

Love comes refined, 

in patched holes and ripped pantyhose/

begrimed and messy,

you are scrubbed 

and he bleeds easily,

it was only a chat,

it was only a room,

it was only a gaze,

it was only six-years worth

of what youth and a conversation are capable, or culpable

of.

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Jeremiah Michael Mahle

Member Name: ingrid’s bitch

Location: proud of it

Marital Status:  see name

Hobbies: cunnilingus

Computers:  El Salvador has fruit I’ve never tasted

Occupation: cat petter

Personal quote: she’ll beat you up if I want her too

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