I’d Like a Medium Drink, Please 

At Taco Bell you got a drink for free.  / The cashier’s eyes were flagrantly downcast,  / but your tits were really quite a sight to see.  // I don't know how you were feeling about me, / the space between us minuscule or vast,  / when at Taco Bell you got a drink for free.  // On your chest your shirt went plunging in a V. / In a 90s queerbait drama we were cast.  / And your tits were really quite a sight to see.  // I ate chalupas; you watched awkwardly.  / We kindled flames; they never seemed to last.  / The ice melted in the drink you got for free.  // Your mother teased me for my poetry,  / and knew what we'd been up to in the past.  / In your purple carpet room I drank the sea.  // You identified as L and I as B.  / Your kisses were as sweet as Baja Blast.  / At Taco Bell you got a drink for free;  / you knew your tits were really quite a sight to see. 

Erin Rosen (she/her) is a writer and therapist living in Louisville, KY. Her work has appeared in Autofocus, Underwired Magazine, and elsewhere. She is currently working on a memoir about marriage, divorce, and madness. In her free time you’ll find her watching old episodes of Dallas and opining on Sue Ellen’s hairstyles. Follow her on Twitter at @rosen_writes.

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