Ali Power

One Poem


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
                            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
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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