This Poem Tastes Like Bubblegum
100 gecs, “ringtone”
Feeling a loud fifteen again,
running you through my head
to every song that comes on shuffle,
sprawling on my unmade bed
staring at my phone, pulse carrying me away
like it’s an 80s movie and I just got my own landline,
slipped my number right through the vent of your locker.
Two songs ago you were picking me up
to drive the dirt road to the lake,
hair tangled in the wind and hand on my knee.
One song ago we were slow dancing
circles around each other in a school gym,
prom after closing,
deflated balloons and dark blue reverb.
I’m trying to decide where we are now,
somewhere crowded where we can kiss alone,
a suburban house party,
a friend’s basement show
I must send a signal through the 5G -
the music cuts out and my heart kicks in
and oh my god,
I throw my phone across the room,
chase right after it, flying.
Meredith Phipps (she/her) is a current undergraduate student at Barnard College where she studies English and works as a Writing Fellow. She bounces back and forth between Manhattan and northern Indiana. She has current or upcoming work in The Augment Review, The Daily Drunk, and Northern Otter, among others. (twitter: @merzi1999)