+Photography © Chad Parenteau


Pandemic Teenage Fling
It’s been many long nights of tucking myself in,
Two years now of space.
Of breathing in guilt that has settled along with the dust into my pillows.
With living ghosts that
eat and cook and yell and are supposed to take care of you is a
          peculiar thing
– that is when you can kill the dead.
It’s been many days that I’ve made myself familiar with my own shadow
          on the wall.
That now with this spring of fresh air as the seasons turn of a sweet
          lovers kiss.
Though cases, as the seasons turn and blossom themselves, violent via est
          for happiness.
Something new and exciting erupts out of a familiar dream of dissociation.
It’s no longer just me in this team. It’s staying in and loading the dishwasher
          while he shovels.
It’s someone that’s affectionate, kind. A warm and safe home with a bed just
          for me but is
willing to share anyway.
It’s still this dreary month of March though, because my game of pretend
          has stopped, and as I
can feel myself welling up I don’t want him to see. He can’t know and he
          can’t see because
then I’m confusing.
I’m reminded of my pale skin and bone against his full of pink and excused-
          limp-dick only half
full of blood.
All the games that I’ve played
and he isn’t even aware of the game of tennis.
I’m reminded of the many things he won’t understand. I’m a little alien in
          this world aren’t I?
Many many worlds apart, aren’t we?
I’m just a visitor a, classic space age invader – maybe even a lesbian!
Oh just something that’s so hidden, so vile, so villainous that you can’t
          even see all the way
down as I suck on your neck like I’m not harvesting you as we speak.
          I’m not. I swear.
Then the seasons turn again – and a summer sun makes us sweat each
          other out with bitter
remarks and we remain slick yet dry and unattainable-


Sophia Mustone is a young artist, poet and absurdist from Gloucester MA born and raised who plans to attend Smith College this fall. “I’ve always had a passion for poetry and art and have found during covid combining my art and poetry has been prolific.”

Chad Parenteau is Associate Editor of Oddball Magazine.