Marisa Crawford

Ryan Gosling Wearing a T-shirt of Macaulay Culkin Wearing a T-shirt of Ryan Gosling Wearing a T-shirt of Macaulay Culkin

I know a girl who never thinks about anything when

she masturbates. But she said that just the image of Ryan

Gosling’s face is enough to make her come. We’ve all

been there. We channel our breathing in a square.

We add all the Ryan Gosling movies to our queue.

We watch My Girl with our best friends,

yell at them for not crying too.

All my life I just thought of whoever I was in love with.

Whoever I wanted to be in love with me.

If they weren’t in love with me, I could just imagine it.

And imagining it made me wanna “use my hands.”

Like Tori says, like Ani says, like I was grabbing them.

Like the swirling green paisley lunchbox from the 70s

that Dan gave me in the 90s, I got

lost in the pattern. Lost in the thought.

You know boys who talk about how much they masturbate all the time.

You know boys who call it “jerk off,” cause they get to have a name for it.

You know that feeling you might get when Ryan Gosling is looking at you.

Emily Dickinson might call it a “swoon.”

I used to get it on a big shaky bridge on the playground.

I wrote Macaulay Culkin fan mail in hot pink pen.

Sometimes I don’t think about anything. I think about

word count. Or getting the Led out.

It’s as if one day love wasn’t enough.

As if one day sad wasn’t enough,

but happy wasn’t either. It’s like,

I expected one thing

when I walked into that theater.

A sweaty blonde boy to stay alive.

Young dumb love to be a light.

Shelly said, “I think you’re beautiful, Vada.”

To think she was beautiful too.

Ryan Gosling Wearing a T-shirt of Macaulay Culkin Wearing a T-shirt of Ryan Gosling Wearing a T-shirt of Macaulay Culkin

I was ready for life I had this cool new pair of jellies.

I had a red crushed-velvet “boyfriend pillow”

filled with dust bunnies.

I tried to write the poem then but

I’ll try again.

J wanted my false starts, my most antiquated prism.

“pieces of me he’s never seen.”

My boyfriend pillow/ my “husband.”

Ryan Gosling is wearing a t-shirt of

Macaulay Culkin wearing a t-shirt

of Ryan Gosling wearing a t-shirt of

Macaulay Culkin, and as I’m reading

the article I see my own face reflecting

in the white t-shirt on the screen.

How Vada was like “he can’t see without his glasses.”

How Mac was like, “if I let you go, do you think you could fly?”

Cute like a bird in the sky like

pink teddy bears. Like I was waving

at myself from the top of the stairs.

Ew I’m a “woman.”

A pile of beef on a sidewalk

A cubicle with a phone with a long black cord attached to it

A loooooooooong blaaaaaaaack cooooooooooooooooord

I took out the garbage in no bra and a white T-shirt that says

I Heart Consent on it, felt weirdly like I was “asking for it.”

I woke up in Tara’s pink & purple Hawaiian shirt,

the colors looked so good on me it knocks me awake just thinking about it.