The Woman with a Thousand Heads #3
We were the bold and funky.
Whatever gunk we stepped in
tethered us to the world.
Insane girls ran through the night
after something in Plath
or The Heathers set them off.
Sometimes we ran with them.
They had things to say
and a raw way of saying them.
Imagine the world’s smallest stampede,
a secret acquittal of criminals
whose strange new crimes
were carried out against the language
depended upon to defend them.