I imagine she’d talk back bleach her hair cry to records that skip.
Would she wear ripped jeans love the wrong boy ruin the right one?
If Eve didn’t earn her fame for plucking forbidden fruit I imagine
she’d be wicked good company. She’d be all 60 in a 45 windows
down blasting the profane music.
Eve would giggle at all the sick jokes
read all the censored books do it all without batting an eyelash.

If Eve were not of Adam would we care for her at all?
If she were less stolen rib and more flammable woman?
If Eve were not the doer of damnation, the action cursed,
the forever receiver of our shaking fists, I imagine
I might adore her, to be brave enough to risk perfection
for freedom, to be bigger than the garden,
than even knowledge, to be bold enough
to reach and pull.

If Eve were not of Eden I imagine
she’d be everything I’d love to be.

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