poem to make up for a bad bri poem

the folsom five join me down by the bay bridge
"you don't get it, you're not a girl"
but it doesn't matter, we're indians waiting for night lights
skin cutters on a short drive
a single bow and arrow that we'll shoot out into the water
later, just to see

that's the part you don't get
really mine from the time of st. augustine grass
so is the fist on my red t-shirt
the tuck and roll
the "hills brothers coffee" sign that invaded
while we were fucking around in the brush
the gardening synthesizers so out of place

say whatever color you think
but I was a green-eyed child
in a cold-little mirror

it led here, the way animals get lost
"where did they go"
it doesn't matter
even in this state I can see you

you can't hide