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Pet Spider’s perfect profile: 

My self-summary

apples, almonds, meat, sweetener tabs, coffee, club soda, pineapple juice, wine, lemons, green leaves, body lotion, soap,

with banana slices,

& throw your cigarette into the street, & walk away.

What I’m doing with my life

going badly, in a dry climate, with a sweet intention.

I’m really good at


The six things I could never do without

moody, dark, handsome, tormented, infatuated, idealistic.

I spend a lot of time thinking about

23, 33, 2009, beach, bleachers, branches, cleaning my room, dreams, driving, drowning, eating a light snack, five hundred miles a week, hanging blue lights, infectious, in her sleep, love object, wearing an avocado necklace.

On a typical Friday night I am

with a wilted bouquet of Eucalyptus leaves, with Diana Ross, with an empty water bottle, with a tire iron, with a paper grocery bag, with a crumpled receipt.

You should message me if

you’re a grubby Venus de Milo.

Pet Spider messaged me on Tinder with the same timestamp that I messaged her on OKC. I said “Poem” she said “Number” we met at the big metal industrial sculpture and drank Prosecco under a rainbow, in a storm, at sunset, under her umbrella.

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