why i’m currently obsessing over britney spears’s ‘trouble’

  • midline rhyming
  • alliteration galore
  • never-ending upbeat-to-downbeat syncopation
  • Euro-Robo Britney at her Euro-Robotiest
  • It hits me in my hips.  When I’m driving and I have it cranked up, it’s 1995. I’m 23, it’s Saturday night, and I’m on my way to J.R.’s. I’m blaring “No More I Love Yous.” I’m ordering a 7&7 because that’s manly. I’m driving drunk. I’m dancing. I’m dizzy from strobing lights. I’m being rubbed by strangers. I’m scared. I’m hopeful. I’m taking some guy home. I’m following some guy home. I’m believing it means something. I’m wearing my pride rings. I’m wearing a tight shirt. I’m showing off my chest. I’m brushing a guy’s hand. I’m talking. I’m confident. I’m shy. I’m perturbed. I’m over it. I’m excited. I’m meeting someone new. I’m the gayest I ever was and the gayest I ever will be. I’m handing out condoms. I’m running my hand through a guy’s hair, looking for the seam of his toupee. I’m crying because someone didn’t call me back. I’m not calling back. I’m buying condoms at Target. I’m lying to family. I’m ashamed and not. I’m riding on a gay pride float. I’m throwing candy and condoms to children. I’m speeding. I’m getting pulled over and openly cursing the cop because he interrupted my trick. I’m walking from bar to bar. I’m hanging my head. I’m stealing glances at the go-go boys. I’m watching the videos on the TVs. I’m trying to look disinterested. I am disinterested, but I’m so hungry. I’m yearning. I’m going home alone. I’m yelling at a stranger that blew me off. I’m ignoring people I know. It’s dark, and I’m driving.