cabbage moth

a single ponytail at the back of her head. a gold chain with her name, still sweating even though she took a shower after the game. you're a cabbage moth, i said. not a butterfly and she asked me why. she didn't cry but i could tell she'd rather be a butterfly. your face is your face, it's beautiful, i replied. and you know the square root of pi. butterflies are plastic and stupid and they're all sluts who probably fucked that guy she works with that one time in orlando. she turned her back and grabbed her bag and i told her that mandy moore got married to bryan adams. it was ryan adams she said, and i fucked your brother. i walked behind her in silence, watching the ponytail jump. she high fived a friend and then turned back around again and i asked if she really fucked my brother because no way, i mean he'd probably do that shit, but. she pushed me in my body, playfully, and said no and i think she called me a stink bug but i fell backwards over a bench and i landed on my wrist. she asked me if i was alright and i said no i think i broke my wrist and she said she's not any kind of disgusting bug. i said i was sorry and that i really did think that i broke my wrist but actually i didn't because at the hospital they took an x-ray and said it was okay and she laughed pretty hard right in my face. just like a cabbage moth. that night we watched condorman on TV and then did it on the couch.