Cherry Twizzler Infused Vodka. A poem.

“There is nothing like puking with somebody to make you into old friends.” – Sylvia Plath

In this case the somebody was my sister, so we were destined to be old friends regardless of whether we puked together or not.  But it’s moments like these that strengthen sisterly bonds.  So here is a piece I wrote about the time that some friends and I decided to have vodka and candy for dinner, in true teenage girl fashion.  It’s a week late for NZ national poetry day, and heavily influenced by ‘Ode to a Grecian Urn.’


Los Angeles, the northernmost city in Latin America

My sister Lauren picks me up at Los Angeles Union Station and makes fun of me when I stress about where to pay for the airport shuttle.  “People here just don’t care,” she says.  “This is the frontier.  We’re the easternmost city in Asia and the northernmost city in Latin America.  This is your soft entry to Mexico.” 

Having just come from New Zealand winter, it’s not just the warmth of the temperature that’s shocking but also the overt warmth of the people.  Complete strangers will give you advice about which juice to get while you’re in line at Jugo Azteca, or discuss which model has the nicest butt at the Mapplethorpe exhibit at LACMA.  In NZ you’re seen as slightly crazy if you talk to strangers, in LA you’re seen as crazy if you don’t.

View from the roof at Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA)