Come under the canvas flap
and make a mistake with me.
The solar powered Galaxy lights
can’t match the starry sky above us,
but we can’t make love under it
when a camera crew is all around us.
All I ever wanted was a
lightning bolt necklace
with a dab of Ricky’s homemade ranch.
I’ll wear my vintage Versace sunglasses
at night so I can forget that
Ariana’s in the yurt next to us,
and that Schwartz is laying in
the twin bed next to us.
I’d rather have the albino turkey
watch us since I’m sure
turkeys can’t masturbate.
Scheana and Brock being here too
makes me wonder if we’ll make
our own Summer Moon under tonight’s.
I’ll make you forget the shame from
our night in the jacuzzi while
Ariana was at her grandma’s funeral.
Tonight, I want you to
leave me deader than Charlotte.
You’ll do that for me,
won’t you Tom?
After all, I want this to be
a bomb-ass glamping trip
with my closest friends.
I want this to be a vibe.
Alex Carrigan (he/him) is a Pushcart-nominated editor, poet, and critic from Alexandria, Virginia. He is the author of Now Let’s Get Brunch: A Collection of RuPaul’s Drag Race Twitter Poetry (Querencia Press, 2023) and May All Our Pain Be Champagne: A Collection of Real Housewives Twitter Poetry (Alien Buddha Press, 2022). He has had fiction, poetry, and literary reviews published in Quail Bell Magazine, Lambda Literary Review, Barrelhouse, Sage Cigarettes (Best of the Net Nominee, 2023), Stories About Penises (Guts Publishing, 2019), and more. For more information, visit carriganak.wordpress.com or on Twitter @carriganak.