she was a
giantess
towering over me at
six feet three
maybe taller
I was after her friend
Katie
but Katie hooked up
with my friend
Jonny
so the giantess and I
ended up
together
sort of a consolation
prize
at a Vietnamese
restaurant
north of Dodge
where we ate
heads-on shrimp
she told me about the
car crash
the multiple surgeries
the colostomy bag
she showed me her
scars
Nazca lines across
her midsection
some punks from her
school
taunted her
her name was Melissa
but they called her
shitbags
I was too weak and
fearful
to stand up for her
but I saw her
wince with
inner pain
we sat on my front
porch
with a bathtub full of
ice and beer
drinking the night away
she sat on my lap
and kissed me
our combined weight
broke the chair
we tumbled to the floor
and went to bed
together
it was like climbing
an oak tree
without saying a
word
we knew it was
over
what an easy
breakup
I dropped her off
at school
the next morning
and never saw
her again
years later I heard
she was awarded a
large
cash settlement
resulting from the
car crash
the giantess is now
a millionaire
nobody
calls her shitbags
anymore
J. Archer Avary (he/him) lives on a tiny island in the English Channel. His work has appeared in Rye Whiskey Review, The Daily Drunk, Mad Swirl, Rejection Letters, Ariel Chart, and other esteemed purveyors of poetry and short fiction. Twitter: @j_archer_avary
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