Poem with Variation on a Line from Saturday Night Fever
I want anterograde timelessness,
I want to invent the future,
so people will think I came from it,
sent back to the present-as-past.
My desires depend on their being
pent, unrealized. My desires are unreal
in the future's eyes. Like knives.
The whole point of a stab wound
is the poignant memory. I don't invent
the future; the future invents me.
And then forgets me.
Poem without Free Will
Scatterplot of insect parts,
needle over E, karaoke
scansion of the radio,
I want my anachronism back—
his head in the rearview mirror,
double-bass voice extrinsic
like running commentary,
and now I hate this movie,
would rather watch
the windshield—the wind
Time doesn't just fly;
it ninja-stars me.
It's obvious to want to die,
but in the poem, I have to.
No life but in desire.
Poem with Assurance
Every display is fulsome. Vagina
is for lovers. I'm only saying
sayings from here on. Is it still 2007
already? You always head to
the B novels looking for World War Z
on tape(s), more Earthly Powers's,
I caught someone's zees.
I can't find the erratica section
but there's porn scattered everywhere.
When I said "I like it when you grope me
in public" I wasn't being ironic.
Now either. Now I want to go out, out
into the war. I see stadium lights
through the trees.
Poem with Superimposition
The night we met you had a stain
on your sweater, which I read
as nonchalance. I liked that
better. And freckles! The moon-
shine invasive, in our personal
space. I wonder why I didn't wonder
if we'd ever go to Canada.
In any case, we didn't.
But your previous version
is extant somewhere
in my dark-half mind; I happen-
stance against it, hovering
over a version of me, still
trying to fuck me. Sometimes
the things I say annoy me. But
this isn't called "Poem with Apology."
Poem with a Pun
And now it's cold. The air above the bed
rains blows. I want to be the girl
to watch classic porn with you
but it's so creepy-sexy it's not sexy,
or it's funny. At least now I know
that Debbie doesn't really do Dallas—
just the one guy, and only for the money,
though she makes the most of it. Should I say
I'm bad in bed? Do you prefer
an unconvincing liar, or a bad actress?
We watched two. What am I now,
the girl who watches porn with you?