Amy Thatcher

Weird as a Girl

I was interested in posterity. 
I wandered the neighborhood 
holding a notebook, looking 
for something to record. 
Once, I audio-taped myself 
masturbating, using my sister’s 
copy of Rabbit Run. 
I kept the cassette hidden 
for future reference, 
but threw the book out later 
because it had nothing to do 
with rabbits. That same summer, 
my mother’s old Dodge Dart was stolen. 
She loved that car—named it Gypsy, 
after the musical about a stripper. 
She went walking until she found it, 
parked by the Shop-n-Bag, then stole it back. 
In the trunk, my collection of pet rocks
remained untouched. 
No one could believe our luck.

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Amy Thatcher is a native Philadelphian where she works as a public librarian. Her poems have been published in Guesthouse, Bear Review, Rhino, SWWIM, Palette Poetry, Rust + Moth, Crab Creek Review, Iron Horse Literary Review and forthcoming in Spoon River Poetry Review.