Things That Do Not C(o)unt

You want to be free. You want to walk the streets of San Francisco and follow Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassady on the road. You want to follow them badly as you stare into faces of older men who rip you clothes apart and take you for granted. You want to shake your big hips as you are in control of everything and everyone around you. You want to possess and be possessed without seeming a little bit too slutty or whore like. You are in control of your own body and your fantasies, as you energetically type those words onto your friend’s type writer “I’m into you. Please be mine”. You remember that first kiss in the middle of a field, where his breath stank of LUCKY STRIKE, a present from an uncle from CHICAGO, and cheap wine.