God, but the air is thick with water and a riot of flies.
I’m not used to all this nowhere, my sight bright as yellow lines,
and the sudden darkness of the women’s restroom makes me tremble.
Some places only exist to be passed through like a curtain
or a ghost or you get the idea. Brief explosions
of strawberries light up the sides of the road,
three old Southern women waving me down like a lost bird.
They seem almost frantic, sweat congealing on their brows,
eyes flashing red in the sun. This is the only fruit you should eat.
Old women are easy to laugh at, I think. But where was I? I open the driver’s side door again to keep on, keep on
going. Oh, yeah. It’s hot as hell down here.
Natalie Eleanor Patterson is a half-Cuban femme lesbian poet from Georgia working on her BA in English and Creative Writing. Most recently, she has work featured in Sinister Wisdom and Hunger Mountain. She’s the assistant editor of Jacar Press and can be found on Twitter @natalieepatt or at poetnatalie.com.