We’re Sitting on Car Hoods at Starbucks — Fiona Liu

and I haven’t slept in three days. The parking lot is grey &

empty; the sky purple in fast-moving clouds / someone has

turned the saturation way up. Static crackles from

tinny earbuds / and thoughts knock around my skull like pills

in a half-empty bottle // that I never learned to swallow; so I

roll them under my tongue into the hollows of my soul & they

coat my mouth with their chalky aftertaste long / after you are

gone. Citric acid puckers my raw fish-cheeks, leaves my lips /

acetic snowdrops / you eat ghost peppers just to feel something; so maybe

we can die / with smiles // or maybe we don’t die at all, maybe we just live

forever, and / isn’t that a horrible thought? Halfway across

America, there’s another bullet shot & blood runs red like the mother’s

(secret lover) / we’re screaming under the streetlights; it’s a silent night

because the world is too loud / to hear; only I’m just a glitch drinking

black coffee with lime soda & you said god is the third pattern you see

at three a.m. // when you press the base of your palms too hard against

your swollen eyes (we’re seeing stars). Somewhere in the world, a baby is crying

for / its mother, who lies dead & trampled beneath the tires

of an American / tank. Did they ever tell you / how the world

fights its wars? — with McDonald’s and Coca-Cola and

Hollywood movie stars / wearing blue jeans with Converse

high-tops. When I close my eyes & they are too dry to cry / but

you’re still wishing upon shooting stars // cheers! Let’s take this shot

bottoms up. Maybe if I / drink enough Red Bull I can fly & maybe

if I fly I’ll see / god is the color of your eyes when you’re lying // like

maybe if we had eyes at all. \\

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Fiona Liu is a high school sophomore from California. Her work has been recognized with a Gold Medal from the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. In her free time, she can be found listening to music, curled up with a good book, or visiting local cafes.