Pretty Flowers by Gabby Gabby

                Gabby is moving up in the world. Now she has a Tumblr. In fact, she even has her own court jester, a man by the name Paul Cunningham. So it is no surprise that ‘Pretty Flowers’ delivers the goods, right on the first page. I’m talking some high-quality, uncut flower JPEG action. Yeah, I’m totally serious. Print out the flowers and give them to your significant other. 

                There are words. That’s a bonus. But few of them have to do with flowers. No sir (or madam) they are about this great country of ours: America. Gabby hooks me in with her first sentence, about state fairs in America. I remember my trips to state fairs as a kid. Every time I went to the same state fair I’d get picked out of the audience by a lumberjack. The lumberjack proceeded to cut a tiny toy chair out of a log. Now that I think about it that sounds horribly wasteful. As a kid I thought to myself “That is so cool. Fuck that tree.” 

                It reveals Gabby is a vegan. I am not a vegan. I feel I need to be a vegan in order to be an authentic and relevant ‘alt lit’ writer. I am working on it. Michigan comes up in the poem. Not sure if this is a reference to Steve Roggenbuck, easily the most popular Michigan resident since, uh, Henry Ford? Michigan residents are divided into a mitten and some hook. I think the mitten is the ‘cool’ part of Michigan and that hook thing is the ‘we’re gonna fuck you up real bad’ part of Michigan. 

                Virginia is for lovers. Virginia is also for Gabbys. Gabby lives in Williamsburg, VA, as I’ve stated one time before. I feel bad that she lives in such a boring part of Virginia, near all those modern people who act like they are from the eighteenth century and failing badly. I wonder if those eighteenth century re-enactors hit on tourists using ye olde English. Feel that would be the most pathetic thing I could possibly think of. Though it appears I’m not alone. Gabby is haunted by historically accurate erotica involving Thomas Jefferson. I feel that’s better than being haunted by Martin Van Buren. Martin Van Buren can kiss my historically accurate ass.     

             

                It ends with some positive energy. Gabby asks the reader to message her on OK Cupid, a dating site for the alt lit scene. I’m on it. She wants to move to Williamsburg - Brooklyn, a place that doesn’t care at all about historical accuracy. Maybe years from now there will be tours around Brooklyn describing hipsters with surprisingly amounts of inaccuracy because everybody hates hipsters especially hipsters. Hope someday Gabby can make it to Williamsburg (the non-shitty one). 

                “Pretty Flowers” is pure excellence. Glad flowers got mentioned somewhere in there.