Sarah Rooney Designs

good Catholic girl from the suburbs is going off to college. She’s kissing her parents goodbye. She’s studying philosophy, drinking beer, kissing a boy, brushing her hair alone in her dorm. 

good Catholic girl is homeless in the mountains. She’s squatting in an apartment, she’s stealing her roommate’s weed, she’s sunbathing in her underwear on the roof. She’s flirting with the regulars at the cafe she works at, subsisting on day-old pastries.  She’s rolling silverware as the cook tells her she has a nice ass, as the dishwasher tells her he had another dream about her. She hasn’t felt her toes in two months, she’s impersonating a resort employee so she can ski through the open trees, she has the sun in her eyes.

good Catholic girl is going on a spontaneous trip. She’s naked under a waterfall, she’s tripping with strangers, she’s drowning in the ocean almost. She’s stinging the sliced back of the guide she trusted with hydrogen peroxide. She’s painting on the walls, she’s sleeping on the beach. She’s not wearing a bra, she’s coming in for a drink.  She’s shoplifting sushi, sweet talking TSA, writing her little poems in her little journal. 

good Catholic girl is sending you a picture of her tits and you’re begging her for more, can’t she see you’d do anything for her? 

good Catholic girl is saying her prayers. She’s charging her jewelry under the full moon. She’s wearing her father’s necklace, she’s  smoking strange men’s cigarettes. She’s smiling sweetly, she’s smiling sardonically, she doesn’t know how to keep her damn mouth shut. She lines her eyes with eyeliner she stole, she’s pretending that makes the game fun. She’s not shaving her legs, she’s not shaving her armpits, her hips are swirling in the drum circle. She’s screaming that she knows she looks good, she’s shrieking that it’s not for you, she’s wailing that she’s not yours. Sea water is rushing into her open mouth like another cave at high tide. 

good Catholic girl is trying to fist fight the ocean. You’re watching from the cliff’s face. You’ve got a beer in one hand, the other’s down your pants.