Ali Power

One Poem

UPPER DOWNER COLLAGE

//
Days after SUV Graceland cry pat, I pass
New York Memory Center, think about
how I’m not afraid of not saying
the right thing anymore, but I still worry
about how I look, at the Lone Wolf
I order a pickle with my drink, change
what makes me feel comfortable, consider
what will hurt less, time myself
to reinvent again, label things
not my problem

//
We spend the night in lawn chairs
coming down/inhaling cream peach
giving each other looks like maybe
like take these sweet peas home with you

//
We had stopped to watch bees
fucking at our feet, were kids
who get horny when high, combing
all the actions into a single exhale
a trillion earthly highways
mind sequins
slow dancing
with ourselves
flowers
                fingers
                            ladies
                            of high noon
                                                            passing the blunt

//
I love airports
something about possibility
and a Bloody Mary
at TGIFridays
where people carry their baggage
for everyone to see

//
I thought I could say anything
assuming a body
just keeping going
standing here holding
someone else’s cigarette/sad vortex thinking
everything is fucked/let’s start over
money isn’t real anyway

//
All my life I’ve sought
incongruous euphorias
I mean dying assortment
of beginnings & endings
depossessed front men
tell a perfect stranger
my whole history
is like a long jiggling—
under the spotlight
my generation
of copouts
sensationalists & bro-dudes
reclined in the foreground
beside a manmade
pond—Poussin’s
musky rich yellows & greens
city creeping behind hills

//
But rejoice, because feeling
because inside a dry moat
we flicker
we flirt
we get high
we keep moving
the sky is divided into three parts
of which three parts are simulacrum
tender parts
floating towards
a clear picture of New York

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