Amye Archer

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Pockets

My sister gets her back pockets ripped off

by an overzealous fan-

at a Tesla concert in Wilkes Barre.

In the sticky August air

she lies on the hood of Ken's 1989 Camero

and cries

she will die

without the black acid-washed

size zero jeans.

The same jeans I work tirelessly

to shoehorn her into

every Friday night

only to have them lie-

minutes later,

on the floor

of Cockroach's van.