The Velveteen Girl
Still not used to the heat at midnight
I walk down Flamingo, the phone on my hip
playing “Cowgirl in the Sand.” I tombé
pas de bourrée and then I am dancing,
the empty street
safer than you ever were.
I rent a U-Haul, I crisscross the valley
picking up furniture. I flirt to rent an apartment
in North Vegas on a Saturday.
I bought myself a year.
The bartender has platinum blonde hair,
the bartender is me in another life and
the taps are golden hands pouring
my favorite grapefruit hefeweizen.
I leave the bar but I don’t go home.
I walk toward the Strip,
I walk toward the canyon.
I find an old railroad car,
a cat in the garden underneath.
When I hop the fence
I don’t land.
Because leaving you
feels like
levitation.
Still not used to the heat at midnight
I walk down Flamingo, the phone on my hip
playing “Cowgirl in the Sand.” I tombé
pas de bourrée and then I am dancing,
the empty street
safer than you ever were.
I rent a U-Haul, I crisscross the valley
picking up furniture. I flirt to rent an apartment
in North Vegas on a Saturday.
I bought myself a year.
The bartender has platinum blonde hair,
the bartender is me in another life and
the taps are golden hands pouring
my favorite grapefruit hefeweizen.
I leave the bar but I don’t go home.
I walk toward the Strip,
I walk toward the canyon.
I find an old railroad car,
a cat in the garden underneath.
When I hop the fence
I don’t land.
Because leaving you
feels like
levitation.
Kaylyssa Quinn lives in Atlanta, Georgia. She studied English Literature at Queens University of Charlotte and currently attends a made-up, DIY MFA program called Tuesday University. Her poems have been published in Capsule Stories, tinywords, Furious Season, Six Sentences, and in partnership with Hades Wool. She can be found online @kaylyssa