Allow me to be a reflection
of all of her tastes, including
that core piece of her
that makes fun of me for not
screaming the lyrics of a song
about John Deere green.
How could I truly love her
without owning one pair
of Wrangler jeans?
It is because I love her I still
drive the forty minutes
to sit at a field party near
a retention pond, where one
of her friends, a lawyer now,
shoots fireworks over
a two-lane highway with multiple
decorated crosses for teenagers
that couldn’t find the middle lane.
There’s something about
the way she gets away with shit
that makes her a fucking peach.
There’s something about
the way she wiggles when
she comes home after a few days
that answers all my questions.

Darren C. Demaree is the author of twenty-five full-length poetry collections, most recently Got There: Poems on Vanishing, (April Gloaming Publishing, April 2026). He is the recipient of a Greater Columbus Arts Council Grant, an Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Award, the Louise Bogan Award from Trio House Press, and the Nancy Dew Taylor Award from Emrys Journal. He is currently working in the Columbus Metropolitan Library system.