World’s Finest, Chloe Hiu See Tsang
I hope you get stung in the face by a bee while you help your dad tear down the rotting swingset in the backyard, the one next to the barn and the boulders where the snakes whisper about your parents’ crumbling marriage. I hope the wasps swarm and I hope you’re allergic.
I hope you get the largest splinter while climbing up the side of that barn to patch a leaky roof and your leaky ego, because the metal bucket under the hole is starting to overflow, and so is your poker face. I hope that splinter gets infected and I hope your eyes give you away.
I hope the next time you get in your car while wasted, you have to pull onto the shoulder of the Lincoln Highway because your shitty Honda Civic just isn’t what she used to be. I hope the car realizes you’re a dirtbag and I hope you fall asleep.
I hope the highway patrol officer sees that shitty Honda Civic and goes to check on you. I hope he knocks on the glass, you roll down your window, and he can smell your breath from outside. I hope he pulls you and your whiskey mouth out of the driver’s seat and I hope you get a little bruised.
I hope you have to collect trash on the side of the road, and I know it’s only four days of community service, but you’ll still tell your friends that you were in the system. I hope you get punched in the face by someone who actually went to prison and I hope you go home and cry.
I hope you fall in love and I hope she can’t help but walk away every time you open your mouth. I hope she’s smarter than that girl you left next to the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park. She sat down on a mushroom and told me that she knew you were looking for a good time, not a long time. But she stayed anyways. I hope the girl you love blocks you on Instagram, and I hope you create a new account just to see her face in your feed.
I hope you live for another sixty years, and every day you look in the mirror and think, “I am the worst person I know.” I hope you twist your ankle while running away from yourself. If I were you, I’d run away too.
About the Author
Claire Helena Falsey · Hofstra University
Claire Feasey is a sophomore English Publishing Studies, Anthropology, and Music student at Hofstra University. Her work had been previously published in North Carolina’s Poetry Society’s Pinesong. “Response to a Real Overheard Conversation on the G Train” first appeared in Font.
About the Artist
Chloe Hiu See Tsang · University of California, Santa Cruz
“World’s Finest” first appeared in Matchbox Magazine.