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View from Inside

by Figurine

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Post Road 02:33
You fell asleep on me. We both drank too much Post Road, and I start fights for free over everything I think I know. You woke up, you wanted to make it right but I already made you sad tonight. You said “Let’s go outside, we both drank too much Post Road.” The two of us, so tried, with everything we think we owe. You’ve been nothing to me but beautiful and kind. You hold me, I’m clutching the lighter tight. There’s a menthol behind your ear tonight we won’t smoke.
Made Lonely 04:47
This week the trees are blue, I saw them from the road. They line the lake, soon to freeze, and layer up with snow. You hold me by my neck, tell me I’ve got to earn it this time. When we’re done, you know I’m one to roll over, give you that sad shoulder, another October, I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s not the end, promise. Bet it’s the pills, honest. I’ll drink more water and eat a balanced meal. I made a garland chain. I read fifteen more pages and I drank the rest of that fifth for no reason. Are you sure that you like me? Do I love you? Do I love your family? Are you sure? I’m looking at him, and his school folders. Word-searching non-smoker, maybe he’ll get a job there, or maybe he’ll go to school more. We are just made lonely, but we try hard, don’t we? Then we feel so guilty, and I feel so phony when I say I’m closer, keep going, go lower. Hit me, I don’t know you. I don’t bother anymore.
Back Inside 02:45
You held her legs like two dozen eggs and she knit your head into two small braids. Your eyes were pulled like the window shades, and For Emma played. You finally read ’84 by my bed. I’ve been drunk three times just this week, I’m dead. You bought twenty dollars of cheese and bread for the grief ahead. You said you might, at the crosswalk light, like to sleep with my friends at your next invite. I say loaded things, then apologize, and we circle your house ‘til we’re back inside ourselves.
Who will do it? Who gets the shorter straw? You have the rough draft, I can’t move my lower jaw. Who can do it? Say it with your friends around. Say it like you’re counting down. Say it like it’s just a sound, say it like it’s just a sound. Who will do it? Put my toothbrush in the mail. Who will open up the trunk? All our magazines are there. I can’t do this. You’re the only friend I have. You can’t either. Floating off the map without a mast.
The Blame 05:33
You, waiting at my window. There goes the peace I’ve made these last two years. I took it on the chin, so you don't have to worry when you disappear. Baby greens, I forgot they’re so intrusive. There goes my disinterest. Please don’t move so far away. You don’t mention her, but I know you’re exclusive. I don’t mention jealousy, but you can see it on my face. There goes the bed he built, the beers we’ve grown to love. After you leave the bar, he doesn’t seem enough. There goes the time he gave to me even when I swore our time was up. I’d love to blame you for ruining this for me but the blame is not on us. There go the magazines, post-its every page. After tonight I have no reason for today. There go the words he felt but couldn’t say at that “bring your own” pizza place. I’d love to blame you for ruining this for me but I never would’ve stayed.
You went under and through the tents, both hands on your camera lens. I’ve been using just these eyes, take pictures of you all the time. The yellow light on your forehead, when you study yourself to bed, and Madison, who ran, covered in snow, in dandelion fur. Your nephew with his head hung low. Two poems and to sleep he goes. Your niece, who put on a fashion show, so much of you I’ll never know. Searching for the measuring cup to measure out that off-brand stuff. I even have you just behind me the target for the film you’re winding. Naked in my swivel chair as I braid through my sopping hair. Grey eyes, you’re my morning prayer. So much of you I’ll never share.
On the trashy bar side of the rink, I looked for you. We were all taped in and full of drinks. I should’ve been at home. Read the book I still have yet to finish, or catch up with all that sleep that I’ve been losing since I moved. You were so impossible that morning; You joked that I should be much more delighted that you showed, but I was in my caffeine and so guilty and so happy. I know that I should’ve been at home. I sat down in the middle seat; you fold to fit your buckled knees. I haven’t left my job yet, no; some things are hard to leave. Bloodless sky and bending wheat, and me, unclean. I struggle, see, I’m conscious now your buckled knees are bowing toward me. At the garlic festival I walked ahead. It isn’t fair of me to buy a greeting card for him and hide it in my purse. At eleven, you were drinking rum and I was drinking gin. I sat down on a dirty rug and listened to you claw and pluck the classical guitar in the antique shop. Someone that I care about is sleeping all alone, I know that I should’ve been at home. Someone that I care about is sleeping all alone—
Dragon eye pines, he knows that I am just a lying fucking writer. Loves me anyway-- He holds my skirt up at my waist to show me kinder. Exhausted bible covers. Something greater sees me check the pews behind us. Were you better, now, I wonder, as a stranger? To the unknown, we are pious. To find she had a boyfriend, and to fuck her two times after-- That was sleazy. I say I’d never pull that, but the thought of making him cry is too easy. Blackened Lincoln town car-- the plate number is written on with marker. Fog over the phone wires. Frost under a bed of dead sunflowers. House cat in the middle lane, dead and bleeding gray. Prophet on the second plane willing you to stay. One hand on the tuning peg, the other on his leg. The pines never swayed, my hand was afraid. I bet you boarded, watched some TV, got off and bathed. On his childhood bed, with my shoes off. Being honest—not my strong suit. Acting like I’m well read. He recites some cocky bullshit. It’s a costume. Followed what the box said, used a half-cup when I should’ve used a teaspoon. The more you take my AC out my window, the more I realize how I need you. Dragon eye pines, you know that I am just a lying fucking writer.
Tell me how I’m put out by your deity— Cucumbers, tomato, God and parsley. Hush the crying for the dinner party. I get home and rub mud on my body to feel I’m part of you. The sea, a sheet—you cover me, and I peel the salt and rind, your dirty mind and ideals. Resent the skin that holds us in. I pinwheel invented girls. I knew you first, yet I kneel to feel I’m part of you. Balled up and undressed on the bathroom floor. On your phone at breakfast. You’re ready to be thankful. Delivered me porn while holding down my ankles. The more we shy from calling this, the higher the cost. One of us will get killed off. I’m tallying her good looks, graphing the talk, while filling a coffee grinder with rocks. Hunting Park Ave. What’ll get us drunk quick? Gave you two tabs (graduation), made you sick. Came all at once, his face I couldn’t predict. Mint sauce and lamb, I’m a selfish hypocrite. Three books for a dollar at a street market stand. One clock set an hour back, one to Holy Land.


released by Funnybone Records


released September 15, 2017

Written by Ashly LaRosa
Mixed and Mastered by Jonathan Zonenshine

Ashly LaRosa - Vocals, Guitar
Dylan Healy - Vocals, Electric Guitar, Banjo
Dan Liparini - Slide Guitar
Austin Mackey - Electric Guitar
Molly Rabuffo - Vocals
Jack Riley - Accordion, Percussion
Sean Rubin - Bass, Guitar
Emily Uz - Vocals
Jonathan Zonenshine - Keys, Electric Guitar, Percussion


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Figurine Hartford, Connecticut

blood, sweat and beers

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