Something About SW

by Charlotte Hamrick


You were the throw-away boy, the misfit captain of the football team and I was a bored not completely committed spaced-out belated flower child. We would make out in the cramped back seat of your Mustang where the heart necklace my last boyfriend gave me ended up ground under your heel on the grimy floor while you grunted and pushed and popped my cherry. I didn't mean for things to get that far, it just happened before I knew it while I was looking out the window at the Big Dipper. For your birthday I gave you a blue tank top and a string of individually wrapped cherry suckers and your slimy cousin said, "That's not what he likes to suck" and you both giggled like little girls, like I wasn't even there. And I wasn't. One day you got tired of going to school and decided to join the army. You started talking about how we'd run away and get married and travel the world on Uncle Sam's dime, then one afternoon you picked me up and said "Today is the day" , just like that. Like I didn't have a say in the matter. I looked out the car window and saw a red and yellow kite riding the air currents free, untethered and beautifully independent and I told you I was too young to get married. Even at 16 I knew forever was longer than my attention span.




Charlotte Hamrickís work has appeared in several online and print literary journals and can be found currently or forthcoming in Literary Orphans, Scissors and Spackle, Connotation Press, Blue Fifth Review, and elsewhere. She lives in New Orleans with her husband and a menagerie of furry children where every single day inspires her creativity. You can find her at


Something About SW is scheduled for publication in Camroc Press Review (Summer 2014).