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Dear Carolina, Carolina On My Mind, Carolina I Fucking Love You | Tyler Barton

Dear Carolina, Carolina On My Mind, Carolina I Fucking Love You

For your birthday I forgot, I’m making you a history of the world. I’m a revisionist baby. And I’m sorry for the mistakes I made. For the mistakes we’ve all made. You’ll see. There are a lot of them.

It started with WW0. World War Zero. Which was when humans first grew out the ground. This was when corn was still blue and green, before we bore-ified everything and made the world white and yellow.

Typhoid Mary, she chewed us up and spit out Humanity. Blame her baby.

Joan of Arc and Jon Benet Ramsey were sisters in their first lives. And they ran through the woods wild and free until a group of bears did what they do. Bears ripped their arms off. And these were the statues and sculptures in Rome and Greece and Renaissance Italy, you know the armless, white naked bodies. They came from those poor girls. The first armless of us. Fuckin bears. And you always want to go camping? Hunny: think about Joan and Jon.

We would have been okay but then the Aztecs all started holding their breaths. When the settlers came over, you know from Portugal, in ’92. With Nina and the gals? Well the Incas and all them natives got one look at a double barrel and started holding their collective breaths. In minutes they were gone. Technocitclan took almost an hour. He had big lungs baby. He wasn’t a smoker like me.

America was a new start. But when Abe Lincoln was settling the west as we know it he lost his cowboy sense of spirit, when in a target he couldn’t find a bathroom and the piss started running down his khaki leg. Although his America started with good intentions, he soiled it while shopping for granola bars.

Bittersweet broken country it has been since. Broken, bitter land of the free ever since. Free to pee where we want but we’re too scared to. Too afraid of the consequences, the ruin.

Yeah, Lincoln–his pee brought out the rats. They were called out of the ground by it. The race of them started growing and spreading and soon BOOM there’s the plague. A plague not of colors but only black. Cus remember the world is bored since those first people. A big black plague, anyway, from the rats. Plus, they were rabid too, and biting people’s arms off.

It ain’t easy being a modern person with no arms.

NASCAR’s Tom Petty and Dale Earnhardt had arms. Amelia Erheart had arms. And these people used them to steer shit. And feet for their gas pedals. These are our heroes, respectively, you and I. This is who, in the future history, we should live up to be.

And we can if you’ll forgive me.

Fucking Love you,

T

About Tyler Barton

Tyler Barton lives in Pennsylvania. He is a founding editor of The Triangle. He has been published in The Newer York and Voicemail Poems. He can also be found on Twitter.

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