Carrie Murphy

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I AM THE KING OF MY OWN LIFE

 

The dried-up Ss of worm bodies on the sidewalk freak me out

My dog licks them

My dog is the best thing in my life

Better than food or sex or money

I accidentally eat my dog’s tiny hairs every day but I never feel sad

Some women feel sad about their pubic hair

How can you feel sad about your pubic hair?

Just wax that shit

Or get over it

Women should love themselves

Women should love their bodies

Women should be thin

Women should be curvy

Women should be pink

Women should be white

Women should love themselves

When I was a child I used to pretend the salt and pepper shakers were ballroom dancers & salt was always the girl

I’m scared that when I have a kid I’ll get really excited & accidentally dress it like a hipster

The coconut smell of sunscreen

The coconut smell of burned skin

The place where they’re building a highrise where all the white people will live
but the white people look askance and say Where will the El Salvadorans go?

Other white people just really don’t give a shit because their property values will go up

Other white people look at their watches as the bus goes by with tons of faces peering out

The day laborers on bicycles, smiling

Coconuts at the Latin Market

I’m scared to go to the botanîca and speak Spanish even though I can sort of speak Spanish

My accent isn’t good enough

I’m scared to walk by myself at night anywhere

My mace isn’t good enough

There should be alcohol at baby showers

Oh wait, there is alcohol at baby showers

Dogs should be able to get drunk

Dogs should be able to get high

My dog accidentally got high once & I was high too & I felt so guilty

I ate brownies

Then I felt bad about it

I wasn’t a hot wife

I wasn’t any kind of wife

I was a blue storm on an orange afternoon

Take a picture of me

Take care

Said the lady at the grocery store said to me after I wrote her a list of affordable neighborhoods to live in in my hometown

It’s the only city with close-together buildings that doesn’t make me want to kill
myself

I love it

I should love it more than I love it

I should love it as much as everyone who still lives there loves it

But I shouldn’t live there

The feeling of bricks on fingertips

The sounds of sleds on driveways

Sun on azaleas

Everyone’s nice moms & weird moms & difficult moms & scary moms

What will I wear if I’m a mom?

I hope nothing too busty but also nothing too busy & nothing too blah

No puces, no peach

When I was a kid I would make things up & then pretend back to myself
that I didn’t make them up

Like I would dream something but then recast it in my head as a memory or I’d read something & then think it actually happened

If I told myself the story enough times it was true

Like when I tried to do a Wiccan ritual & burned a hole through my white rug

Well, that’s actually true

Witches should not be thirteen

Witches should be like cobwebby lace with herbs, but in person form

Witches should be whatever they want to be

Witches should be free in the ocean

Like Michelle Williams at Heath Ledger’s funeral

All wet & smiling in this way that killed me when I saw the pictures

Like grief could be something honeyed that comes up from the bottom of your lungs

As much as it can be a plate of Saltines & a lump under a sheet a dark room

As much as it can be a memory totally erased

Like a series of months with a hole cut right straight through it

Like where’s my head? Where did my head go?

It got pushed under

It got pushed over

It got a crown put on top of it

Not a tiara

Not a television

But a bright band forged

Right in the middle of it all

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