The Drunk Girls

The Drunk Girls
      sway uncertainly to the back beat of a familiar song
The Drunk Girls
     cuss loudly, averting eyes under heavy lids,
The Drunk Girls
     finally feel the eyes upon their asses burning caustic circles,
     finally have the heart to say something about it
     finally working themselves up into a self righteous tirade about
     sexual object-ness, & curse the questionable manliness
     & the uncertain respectability of the mother of
     their ascertained target.
The Drunk Girls
     hang lovingly onto the corpse of a vague notion of chivalry,
     sharply attacking testosterone on general, & stooping to ash their
     cigarettes stop to see who might be listening.
The Drunk Girls
     Are tiered of politics….But not anarchists.
The Drunk Girls
     Sigh as the song on the stereo stops, remembering being kissed, mightily
     groped in dim hallways.
The Drunk Girls
     Drink the yellowest beer from longnecked bottles,
     slippery from condensation
     and burping humbly.
The Drunk Girls
     Know all of the words to that Jawbreaker song
The Drunk Girls
     Would all like to think it was written about them.
The Drunk Girls
     stand up with woozy pride, grabbing a beer on their way to the bathroom
The Drunk Girls
     Talk loudly about the gay boys they know, & how easy it is to have a friendship
     with a boy that isn’t always trying to stick in them
     at every opportune moment.
     And how nice it is to talk about boys with boys,
     what certain techniques & tricks,
     & the comfort that only comes from a complete lack of sexual tension.
The Drunk Girls
     Have all slept with that one guy, & curse him now in name.
     Comparing his fumblings
     and the fucked up things he said.
     Laughing about how he had said almost the exact
     same thing to all of them.
The Drunk Girls
     Agree they would all probably sleep with him again.
The Drunk Girls
     Don’t know why their parents married
     when they don’t sleep in the same bed
     & don’t even speak to each other at a decibel lower than a shriek.
The Drunk Girls
     Share their stories of free abortions by faceless doctors in nameless clinics
The Drunk Girls
     Confide their friendship in one another, clink their beers in hearty cheers
The Drunk Girls
     Swear off boys, admitting their fingers are their best friends
The Drunk Girls
      Dig the fact that they can talk about it
The Drunk Girls
     Console each other in their insecurities,
     Hardly believing that she thinks she has big thighs
The Drunk Girls
      sexy in a city discuss Sex in the City,
     and all admit that they hated to watch Aiden go.
The Drunk Girls
     Argue over who among them is most like Samantha
The Drunk Girls
     Discuss the merits of oral sex,
     Relaying techniques & the ins & outs of swallowing
The Drunk Girls
     Might all like to touch one another
The Drunk Girls
     Would never admit it