Three Dreams ft. Instagram Girls
︎︎︎ Brittany Menjivar
︎ Feb 2, 2023
I.
We are at summer camp
There is no camper-counselor distinction
Though of course you’re 26
And you’ve recently dyed your hair pink
A cabin belonging to a minor character catches fire
You grab my hand, say your big line—
“Run!”
As we sit like children in the hills of refuge,
You point at the flames
And comment on their orange glow
I’m reminded of the time a Tinder boy
Sent me a video of the wildfire over his grandfather’s hometown
Wanting me to call the blaze beautiful
But I don’t tell you about that
I have nothing to say to you
Not even “I love your pink hair”
II.
We are strolling down Coastal Highway
In one of the five versions of Ocean City
That exist in my subconscious
I take you to my go-to bar
The dance floor has been consumed by a gift shop
Selling such trinkets as frisbees and automatic fans
You want to show me a carnival ride called “Riptide”—
But wait, there’s no time! We have to go to Vegas!
Thankfully it is just down the street
The shops at Caesars Palace are knee-deep in water
It’s nbd, nobody’s being all whiny about it
We lie on our backs and float
Admiring the statues of old gods
III.
We are in middle school together
You’re still like 30
I’m still 22
We don’t talk about it
Our best friends are planning
Their 12th birthday parties
They are played by real kids
I can’t tell if we’re doing a “wink-wink” thing
Or if any of this is serious
On our field trip to the aquarium
(Starring live fish as extras),
You tell me how badly you want me
To meet your husband
I go home with you via teleportation
When we get to your neighborhood
The sky is pink (“sailor’s delight”)
And your husband is waiting
In a parked car, waving
I don’t have a husband
I’m not turning 12
What am I doing?
I wake up.
We are at summer camp
There is no camper-counselor distinction
Though of course you’re 26
And you’ve recently dyed your hair pink
A cabin belonging to a minor character catches fire
You grab my hand, say your big line—
“Run!”
As we sit like children in the hills of refuge,
You point at the flames
And comment on their orange glow
I’m reminded of the time a Tinder boy
Sent me a video of the wildfire over his grandfather’s hometown
Wanting me to call the blaze beautiful
But I don’t tell you about that
I have nothing to say to you
Not even “I love your pink hair”
II.
We are strolling down Coastal Highway
In one of the five versions of Ocean City
That exist in my subconscious
I take you to my go-to bar
The dance floor has been consumed by a gift shop
Selling such trinkets as frisbees and automatic fans
You want to show me a carnival ride called “Riptide”—
But wait, there’s no time! We have to go to Vegas!
Thankfully it is just down the street
The shops at Caesars Palace are knee-deep in water
It’s nbd, nobody’s being all whiny about it
We lie on our backs and float
Admiring the statues of old gods
III.
We are in middle school together
You’re still like 30
I’m still 22
We don’t talk about it
Our best friends are planning
Their 12th birthday parties
They are played by real kids
I can’t tell if we’re doing a “wink-wink” thing
Or if any of this is serious
On our field trip to the aquarium
(Starring live fish as extras),
You tell me how badly you want me
To meet your husband
I go home with you via teleportation
When we get to your neighborhood
The sky is pink (“sailor’s delight”)
And your husband is waiting
In a parked car, waving
I don’t have a husband
I’m not turning 12
What am I doing?
I wake up.
Brittany Menjivar was born and raised in the DMV, but now works and plays in the City of Angels. Her short film Fragile.com (dir. Alison-Eve Hammersley) can be viewed via the ALTER Channel on YouTube. Her writing has been published by Versification, pan-pan press, and Bureau of Complaint (which nominated her piece "Prophecy" for a Best of the Net Award in 2022). @BrittMenjivar
Also by Brittany: California, A semi truck hit me
New York Love
︎︎︎ Conor Truax
︎ Jan 31, 2023
I was riding the subway the other day
Not sure if it was the R,
Maybe the J?
Whatever it was it was packed, sweaty
My height was the only gateway for airspace,
The girl next to me
Shit
Her breath smelled like a retirement home somehow.
And on the bench in the packed subway, there’s this guy
He’s just laying there.
Three seats,
Two legs,
One ass.
Everyone’s looking at each other like,
The fuck?
Who’s gonna wake him up?
We’re all shakin’ heads so we can agree
About our disappointment
in this situation of ours.
Everybody does something
But it never comes to more than a headshake.
Then he comes flying on the car —
Wait, that’s a she?
She’s jacked, real jacked
Tall too
Makes me look small
Like
I guess my airspace ain’t so mine anymore.
And she’s movin’ toward the guy on the train,
Yellin’ like
“Get the fuck up bitch”
And all her friends are like
“Slow the fuck down bitch”
And the guy
The sleeping guy
Who, wait
I guess he wasn’t much sleeping?
He turns and says
“I gotta full cast”
To which she says
“Boo-hoo, bitch, I gotta bad knee!”
And her friends are yelling still
They’re saying
“HE COULD BE DANGEROUS!”
And we’re all standing there nodding mute like
“HE COULD BE DANGEROUS!”
And, well
You can see what’s gonna happen
‘Cus everyone knows what’s about to happen
Preemptively looking for police
Pulling out the Citizen app
He says
“Take this, bitch!”
And he’s already moved to pull it out
The thing at his waist
It looks so big and weighty now
How did we miss it before?
We were too busy nodding to see
What was immediate to the present
But distant from our minds
The thing in his hand
Motioning toward her
It’s moving right into her now;
Nobody can intervene
As it collides
With the soft of her skin
Naked in the palm of her hand
And she says:
“Thank you hun,
Lay your ass down,
these protein bars are expensive.”
Not sure if it was the R,
Maybe the J?
Whatever it was it was packed, sweaty
My height was the only gateway for airspace,
The girl next to me
Shit
Her breath smelled like a retirement home somehow.
And on the bench in the packed subway, there’s this guy
He’s just laying there.
Three seats,
Two legs,
One ass.
Everyone’s looking at each other like,
The fuck?
Who’s gonna wake him up?
We’re all shakin’ heads so we can agree
About our disappointment
in this situation of ours.
Everybody does something
But it never comes to more than a headshake.
Then he comes flying on the car —
Wait, that’s a she?
She’s jacked, real jacked
Tall too
Makes me look small
Like
I guess my airspace ain’t so mine anymore.
And she’s movin’ toward the guy on the train,
Yellin’ like
“Get the fuck up bitch”
And all her friends are like
“Slow the fuck down bitch”
And the guy
The sleeping guy
Who, wait
I guess he wasn’t much sleeping?
He turns and says
“I gotta full cast”
To which she says
“Boo-hoo, bitch, I gotta bad knee!”
And her friends are yelling still
They’re saying
“HE COULD BE DANGEROUS!”
And we’re all standing there nodding mute like
“HE COULD BE DANGEROUS!”
And, well
You can see what’s gonna happen
‘Cus everyone knows what’s about to happen
Preemptively looking for police
Pulling out the Citizen app
He says
“Take this, bitch!”
And he’s already moved to pull it out
The thing at his waist
It looks so big and weighty now
How did we miss it before?
We were too busy nodding to see
What was immediate to the present
But distant from our minds
The thing in his hand
Motioning toward her
It’s moving right into her now;
Nobody can intervene
As it collides
With the soft of her skin
Naked in the palm of her hand
And she says:
“Thank you hun,
Lay your ass down,
these protein bars are expensive.”
Conor Truax is a writer, designer, and engineer based in New York by way of Canada. His work explores the failures of communication and then existential redundancies of the digital age. He hopes you'll connect with him @conortruax.
ANDREW
︎︎︎ Nicola Maye Goldberg
︎ Jan 26, 2023
Do you remember when I loved you.
My hair was so long. I used to take two
trains just to watch TV shows I hated.
Some cartoon characters’ marriage
falling apart. But you fucked me into
oblivion & I liked it there so I stayed.
My hair was so long. I used to take two
trains just to watch TV shows I hated.
Some cartoon characters’ marriage
falling apart. But you fucked me into
oblivion & I liked it there so I stayed.
Nicola Maye Goldberg is the author of Other Women and Nothing Can Hurt You. She lives in New York City.
Also by Nicola: LAST APRIL and more in 2.
California
︎︎︎ Brittany Menjivar
︎ Jan 25, 2023
There are fake trees in the Apple Store
And a 30-year-old woman on a bicycle
Just rode into the closed doors of Brandy Melville
There is blood on the floor
I’m no longer a child
I don’t want to go back to Maryland
And a 30-year-old woman on a bicycle
Just rode into the closed doors of Brandy Melville
There is blood on the floor
I’m no longer a child
I don’t want to go back to Maryland
Brittany Menjivar was born and raised in the DMV, but now works and plays in the City of Angels. Her short film Fragile.com (dir. Alison-Eve Hammersley) can be viewed via the ALTER Channel on YouTube. Her writing has been published by Versification, pan-pan press, and Bureau of Complaint (which nominated her piece "Prophecy" for a Best of the Net Award in 2022). @BrittMenjivar
Also by Brittany: A semi truck hit me
note-06:xvo|897-20
︎︎︎ Luis Neer
︎ Jan 24, 2023
im baptized by morning my face is altered
on the sidewalk with no purpose no mental image
reduced by cold to blind cloth blind bone
reduced by cold to blind featureless unknown
how ecstasy is blindness of hyperextension
how religion is a substitute for patience in heartache
im baptized by knowledge of absence of surface
how earth changes density dreaming faces in stone
how the dirt rises as text into the screen of the sky
i will bury my life in the faintest suggestion
baptized in panic of unintelligible murmur
the intelligible charges again the surface the wind
exposes and freezes the skin of my hand
nothing except in symbols exists conducting sound
but a symbol has no meaning for a symbol
its head dissolves as smoke into other bookstores
its coat is a gesture coveting absent eyes
its voice eyes landscape vanish through black wall
it is baptized by a meaning posthumous & minor
& the landscape doubly animated of a shroud
on the sidewalk with no purpose no mental image
reduced by cold to blind cloth blind bone
reduced by cold to blind featureless unknown
how ecstasy is blindness of hyperextension
how religion is a substitute for patience in heartache
im baptized by knowledge of absence of surface
how earth changes density dreaming faces in stone
how the dirt rises as text into the screen of the sky
i will bury my life in the faintest suggestion
baptized in panic of unintelligible murmur
the intelligible charges again the surface the wind
exposes and freezes the skin of my hand
nothing except in symbols exists conducting sound
but a symbol has no meaning for a symbol
its head dissolves as smoke into other bookstores
its coat is a gesture coveting absent eyes
its voice eyes landscape vanish through black wall
it is baptized by a meaning posthumous & minor
& the landscape doubly animated of a shroud
Luis Neer (b. 1998 in Weirton, West Virginia) is a writer in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He graduated from West Virginia University with a B.A. in English in 2020 and attended the University of New Mexico’s M.F.A. in Creative Writing until 2021. Neer can be found on Instagram @luisneer and Twitter @luis_neer.
Also by Luis: i woke up at 8