at school in dresses

made from pillowcases

my daydreams

looked like columbine

in combat boots

I stomped through double doors

slaying

feathered Izod wearing teens

at Rock against Reagan

Riot gear at my back

Swat teams on roofs

Millions of Dead Cops

on the stage

I stand ghostly

all night frying in

a handheld mirror

white pancake makeup

layered on till day’s light

I’m never able to disappear

my pores big enough to drown in

eyes glassy dilated like the

drug dealers pool

we skinny dip in after

a second wind

supplied by line after

white line

at the side of the interstate

we lost our lizard Spam

in his honor we steal and eat

cans of it with our fingers

washed down with one dollar

gallons of Kool Aid

itchy under polyester

plaid free-box pants

armed to the teeth

we ditch our machete and

beloved billy club

in Washington Square park

against eight million odds

our friends find us on St. Marks

drunkenly spare changing

singing old Clash songs and

Suicidal Tendencies
All I wanted was a Pepsi

Defecating on doors steps

At dawn

Patrick’s Mom

came to get us

her hatchback mission

a loaded shotgun and

home made preserves

willing to trade jams

for our safe return

she drove all night

and delivered us

smelling like

sidewalk shit

 back

at school.

BIO:  “Cassandra Dallett, 38 year old, mother of one. I live in Oakland, CA, work with my brother making and selling free-range turkey products, and attend Berkeley Community College. I enjoy working with kids in Oakland’s public schools, and writing poetry and short stories in my free time.”