She said we’ll go for a walk, but first,
we apply glitter to our lids
and that sticky gloss tasting of cough medicine
Wearing low-slung jeans feels like freedom-
we have ambitions, we dance in the school gym
to Shakira, and to bands I can’t remember
The reasons we eat lunch together, the same reasons we fight

The cousin, he’s in his second year of high school,
stinks of an aggressively masculine body spray
We take turns pretending to inhale
the cigarette he offers us, no smoke spiralling
I hold my chin up and forward
We strut into the takeaway shop, we buy hot chips
(it’s not there anymore, something better took its place)

A sleepover in the suburban sprawl, I’m only temporary
Thirteen is scary-glamorous
until it it’s just scary, fits like a poorly made dress
pinching and distorting us, blue mascara bravado
We buy lollies by the fistful, her house is ugly but convenient,
she hates it here because she has to
On the drive home, I think I’ll never go back
and I never do, I never do

One thought on “Lipsmackers

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