From Sasha Fletcher's "Porch Light"

sorryeveryone:

So Dear Wendy Dear Becky Dear Lisa Dear Liza
let’s tell ourselves a bedtime story.
One where the bears gather at the shore
and just stare at the ocean
with this look in their eyes that says we are going to swallow the fuck out of you
and the moon comes down because the ocean is going crazy with terror
and the bears look at the moon and the moon looks at the bears
and there we are in the background, with our hands on the plunger
and a sincere desire to effect a powerful and lasting change
on the direction of our lives, to eat more roughage, to exercise regularly,
to attempt to live in a manner that does not profane grace,
basically we want the kind of lives that can be seen from space,
but listen: fuck all of that. Because right now we are going to go
and eat a mountain, and then fuck that mountain, and then go to bed
like no one has ever gone to bed before, because we are alive
and that’s that. End of story. Get happy.

This is my favorite part of Sasha’s entire chapbook.