Listening to Pink Floyd after getting in the wrong uber: In the Flesh?

What a silly thing, the places we go and the people we see

We resolve to drink more, exercise less, complain to all high heavens

Flip it and pound it from behind

That'll teach us

I’m a Kentucky girl, grass for dinner, if you're lucky I'll let you ride my tractor, might trade it for a truck, much more useful in the streets when there are stop signs. No stoplights, though, much less fancy and tame we work with the earth we were given, I eat grass for breakfast too.

Being country, I'm told to breastfeed, even boys who aren’t mine I resist most of the time but they're hard to fend off with their strong belts and southern charm. Not to mention the belts have charms. You’re a country boy, I've got no clue if I like boys, they make me stiff and worried, so sometimes I drink a lot to loosen so they see me like the southern bell that maybe I could be but am not at the present moment.

One thing every girl is known for around here, I am no exception, is our love for carmanthamums. Now, you might be thinking to yourself, I have never heard of such a flower, well you’ve clearly never been to The Sugar Baby Saloon. Behind a bunch of tables and chairs lying about outside, is a patch of dirt and grass where these carmanthamums are born.

Do you get the metaphor I’m trying to make? I am a country girl the same way these flowers are a country girl’s favorite flower; they don’t actually exist, and I really truly never claimed to be a country girl just the same as you never claimed to be someone’s mother! Mind your business.

To feel the side of a cowboy boot on my hip
Was something quite unexpected, too
Caught up in lines and circles to notice before
But a stray cat was their owner!  

He looked at me with a pearly black eye and  
Bid me a due, nodding low into the  
Darkest part of this Adams apple, and here
I was thinking Felidae didn't have them!

As strange as it was, I paid him no mind
Carried by wavy guitars and longing fiddles
My hip sunk again, this time only with the
Sound of five hundred animals clapping along.  

I turn to my left, to look at my partner, but he’s  
seemingly replaced by a crowd of menagerie workers.
In the corner of my eye, a familiar smile,
I yell to the camel, “Why, You’re Not My Boyfriend!”

My mom got a bottle of Champane in the mail from her
Best friend from college. Friend just found out her husband
Of twenty-five years was ******* other people the entire
Time.  

My dad just gave me an AI generated list of ways to stay
Safe in Thailand from the monkeys. Who knew it was all
That serious? I do now, and will be sure to carry around
A stick.  

My grandmother gave me a check for Christmas, or should
I say she always gives me a check for Christmas. Neenee,  
All the things you give me: life, college, time, love, all the  
Things.  

My ex-boyfriend held my head under the covers of my  
Blue checkered bed and farted. It stunk super badly but
Made me feel loved the same way getting tickled does.
Annoying.  

My best friend’s sister got their grandmothers cat when
She died, so now my best friend has a child, literally. She  
Loves his eyes and carries him up the stairs into her own
Bed.  

My people and I give and discover the great mysteries  
Together all at different levels and times of understanding
And I get to grasp at the feeling of love with the people I  
Love (what a special thing).

to the right
                                                                                                  to the left
                                               a cha-cha slide
take it back now
                                                                                                           y'all

    then,

          Watch us suffer      a                                                                                 slow death                                                                   in the freezer

                                       iced and tight like a frozen treat
                                                    
                                                                                         humming our still

bodies to the rhythm.

Sweet summer fade away
Forgive my large hands for
Holding onto everything
I was not supposed to
The fruit was just so sweet

Not too sweet, I hope
Would have left in that case
Who knows with me and
The heat, I’ll tear it all open
Until there’s nothing left.

Except small, empty rooms
With used command strips
Littered across open spaces,
Some of the paint ripped
To reveal even smaller rooms

Memories are underneath
Truths that feel like lies
We all feel it, unfortunately
Wanting to be forgotten
Until there's nothing left.