this is my nine eleven poem

by blake ellington larson

even though I wrote it years later, I still think of it as a heavy hitter, given its accuracy, to me, the moment, and subsequently, to amy. you see, kevin canty wrote a somewhat haunting short story about a guy who got his ass kicked wearing a red dress, to a red dress party. I was in love with the idea to have a red dress party, but, I’m pretty sure, I just bought a red dress on a whim, with amy, she had a red and white polka dotted dress, so we went shopping and I found one, I think. thing is, I don’t remember much but waking up with her in that slutty sun filled room, the two of us, glazing over an image of a plane and a tower, and instantly falling back into each other, into each other’s arms. I didn’t know it at the time, but, that would be the last i would see her, her mom came and whisked her away that morning, me on the front lawn, hair all a blitz, giving an awkward hug to her daughter, the two of us in red and white polka dotted dresses on the dying lawn, confused and frightened. two days later my best friend put a bullet through his skull. Imagine that. kaz was my nine eleven. it’s a hard pill to swallow. I get it. I miss kaz of course, but amy, I miss you, too.

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