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Honk if you love me—honk like you mean it.

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Photo by Hipster Mum / Unsplash

by Max Gillette

Honk if you love me—honk like you mean it. Honk if you think I’m so beautiful you want to pull me out of this car and kiss me at the intersection of Cherry Hill and Outer Drive. Honk if you would’ve taken me to junior prom even though I had that cast on my ankle and couldn’t dance. Honk if it’s okay that I can’t dance without the cast. Honk if you’d learn how to make eggs the way I like them, even though I’m picky. Honk if you’ll do the laundry while I do the dishes. Honk if you promise to hang our sheets on the clothesline in the backyard, so tonight they’ll smell like grass and sun. Honk if you’d like to get wrinkly together.

Max Gillette is an English major at Central Michigan University, where they work on the editing team for two student-focused publications. Their poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in HAD, Spoonie Press, Cutbow Quarterly, Celestite Poetry, Moss Puppy Magazine, and elsewhere.