when Teresa of Ávila, a Spanish mystic, was asked what she did in prayer, she replied, “I just allow myself to be loved.”
that’s how I feel about the person I wrote this song about. here’s Winona.
we all know someone like her — she’s offbeat, loves to stir things up, and might even have some quirks (maybe even a touch of kleptomania), but we love her because she embraces who she is and lets us do the same.
I saw my Winona browsing the poetry crates at Book Thug Nation, a secondhand bookstore in Brooklyn. what she was doing seemed more like “borrowing.”
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WiNoNA I’m keeping it one hundred with you/I wanna find the real in what you’re saying/microdosing bookstore trips/caught you robbing Anne Sexton/lifting the best lines/from Wanting to Die, you’re my Winona/we’re kissing on the NY Times most wanted list/you say you hate it when the words don’t come/but I hate it when they finish/outside Book Thug on North 3rd/the birds are loud and you’re so pretty/hot as all get out and the rides at the beach/are banging around empty/tipping our cherry ice pops upside down with the humidity/you’re my Winona/we’re kissing/on the NY Times most wanted list/you say you hate it when the words don’t come/but I hate it when they finish
cookie nieves 
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