Signed glossy premium 8.5" x 11" paperprint of Caitlin Conlon's poem "an ode to the girls that camp out for concerts."
Poem reads as follows:
"this is for the dirt stained beauty queen street sleepers made of resilience and dollar store glitter. the girls that can turn a half-empty bag of makeup wipes into a full body shower. the girls that keep buying the cheapest item on the burger king menu so that they can use their bathroom. the girls that pray to dry shampoo and deodorant, spray it generously and consistently and over anyone that needs it. make friends with security & tell them about their parents, how they don’t know that they’re here curled up on a sidewalk, how they think they’re at a sleepover with their friend from high school that isn’t actually their friend anymore, watching movies and eating salt-coated snacks by the handful. the girls applying eyeshadow in the reflections of storefront windows, unfazed by every single person that walks past them and dares to roll their eyes. there is something holy about girls so dedicated to being close to a melody that they give up their basic needs. live off of tap water and fast food and bulk sized bags of goldfish crackers just for the chance to touch something intangible. show off tattoos they got while holding hands with one another smiling because “this is so good, this is so good.” screaming the words to a song that saved their life or maybe just made them happy or maybe just reminds them of how beautiful it is to be alive, how absolutely wonderful it is to sing it in a crowd that knows every key change by heart. the girls that have only ever been a part of something bigger than themselves. the girls that wave pride flags and kiss their partners and hand out hair ties like they’re compliments, trading water with strangers, lips to lips to lips trusting that everyone here is safe because they are, they have to be, how else would they have gotten through the door? why else would they have sweat through their tee shirts or shivered through their jeans, dug out their uncle’s old tent and curled up on blankets that have seen better days? why else if it isn’t some sort of untouchable magic, a silent understanding that everybody belongs in this collective space? this is for the girls that look discomfort in the face until it backs away in shame. the girls that believe. the girls that tuck portable phone chargers in their back pockets and memorize setlists. the girls with ripped band shirts and flower crowns. the girls that are planning on waking up the next morning at 6am for work or class or both. the girls without a family that understands the weird mix of absolute heartbreak and absolute joy that they are capable of holding in their hands.
you are heard. you are seen. you are here to stay."
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