the echoes of sirens and cicadas, and the drunk boys who howl into the trees at 2am infect my window while i sleep, and i'm pulled into the girl i once was, calling for love into a sky transected by power lines until sunset when the town tightened into itself. i prayed for a boy's wolf life, the dream of skulking along streets with hunger and immunity. i wanted to cup the moon's curve in my hand like it belonged to me, that's how young i was.

carmen giménez smith
boy crazy