Brian Allen Carr

Matriarchy

The only thing I need you to do is everything, but you have to do it perfect. Start by removing my every-other spring. After that I’ll be loose. You should get loose too. We’ll be sprawled together. We can lay out flat. I’ll put catsup on your face. I’ll put peanut butter on your hot dog. I’ll fuck you in the ass. I’ll punch you in the back of the head when I’m finished. You’ll rub your sore scalp and tell me my dick is little. “I might not be able to hit the bottom of the tuna can,” I’ll say, “but I can sure as shit scrape all the sides.” Then we’ll chew different kinds of gum, but swap while there’s still flavor. “I’ll never forget today,” you’ll say. Then I’ll tell you that you’ll never forget anything. Your memories will have memories in them. And those memories will be memory laden. What’s the name of the Russian dolls? The ones you take apart forever. This will be the smallest of the babies inside them. The deepest pea packed beneath you as you sleep. Did you feel it in your dreaming? Will you wake and tell me surely? There’s a mother that will judge you. Or must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must we try this thing again? Must
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Brian Allen Carr lives in South Texas. He is the author of Short Bus.