Sometimes I think Therapist is God
even though her name is Lisa.
God would want to hear about a real experience:
Biggie’s 80s night, two drunk girls kissing.
Lisa wants to talk about my obsession
with The Sims, why I build beautiful pools
for the party guests to swim in
then send them home
while everyone else takes out the ladder
for fun. The last time I was fun
I let Mike Bell’s dog chew
on the bra I drove back to his house for.
Everyone wanted to fuck Mike Bell,
Lisa, so he fucked everyone.
I have aspirations. I enlarge my eyes
in the mirror. I make microwavable noodles.
My grandmother believes in God, Lisa,
but I don’t even know what her back looks like.
Suzanne Highland is a native of Florida currently living in New York, where she teaches critical writing to freshman in high school and in college. She has a BA from Florida State University and an MFA from Hunter College, where she was a recipient of the Miriam Weinberg Richter Memorial Award. She has been awarded fellowships or prizes from The Community of Writers at Squaw Valley and Vermont Studio Center, and her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Bone Bouquet, No, Dear, and LEVELER, among others. You can visit her at suzannehighland.com.