Drew Krewer


the people cum in pools.

in the lobby of your body building
in the land of headless selfies—
shredded men so mediocre-lettuce-like


from a nacho

a viral vid of veggies anal sexing
even our food is fucked

maybe i’m funneling myself into a car that isn’t mine
maybe hush money with nothing to hush

i believed the viognier
until grander lies asserted themselves

now i’m unplugging all the rain
and spitting through a silencer.

to entrust you as my chaperone became an act of disgrace—
i’ve embedded myself in a stranger’s prom
and it’s looping like a sex tape

so if you’ve bought me dinner and you’re DTF, tell me i’m clear.
tell me i’m a goblet or a really functional vase or something sparkly
for all the grand gestures and desperate apologies
to which i’ll never graduate

say my marichino is the brightest
like it’s useful to compare what we abandon

there are moments of perspective—
the scruff beats out the aftershave
a tabloid tells an elegant truth

but for the most part
that’s the medicine talking

i can see your amateur brain
and it’s jump-cutting to realcore

i’m at a Russian birthday party
spread out on a rec table
i’m speaking to you in a foreign language
i’m easy to ignore

Drew Krewer's work has appeared in DIAGRAM, The Volta, Poor Claudia, and Trickhouse, among others. He co-edits the online publication The Destroyer, and his chapbook Ars Warholica was published by Spork Press in 2010. He currently resides in Los Angeles, where he works as a digital librarian.

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