Champion of Fight Club

I want to swim in whiskey waters, become champion
of fight club, melt plastic cups of ramen in the microwave
and eat it anyways. I want to spray paint the police station–
but something nice like “have a good day.”  I want to wave
at the cops with  the residue on my hands, daring them
to arrest me.  Find fortunes fall from the ceiling tiles,
Love poems stuffed in the dashboard of used cars.
I want to feel the love and fortune, pierce my ears
when I’m angry and pop them when they’re infected
without flinching.  Dye my hair a new color every week,
shave it when I get bored.  Follow bike trails drawn
under bathroom counters, right beside the picture
of a chicken laying an egg.

Author: Zoe Conner

I'm Zoe Conner. I'm writing on a computer named Rambo, which you should only say with a rolled r. I write because I don't want to be just another cog in the machine. I live. I write. That's all you need to know. View all posts by Zoe Conner