I am Zsa Zsa Gabor Says Monkey
And you're my one in seven billion,
quiet as a hummingbird.
Out where crafts hover,
where the triangles blip
and depart, I was certain
a ship might land so stealth
we could serve it lunch.
Potted meat on two truths,
toast points. Plates edged
by tabloid wallpaper and
an airbase. I catch glimpses
only to release them,
blinking. You've decided
on levels beyond which
you won’t so I've decided to
give you a haircut. One hot buzz,
tight enough to level my fictitious
with your decent. Photography
behind the counter, doctored
yes but exhibiting kin crop marks
and light strips, oracle gone
sky highward. You don't have to
know much to know something.
Sometimes the only sane answer
to a senseless world is paranoia.
New clothes, mascara. A wig maybe.
celebrating twenty-five years of above/ground press
a/g subscribers receive a complimentary copy
Rachel Mindell lives in Tucson, Arizona. She is the author of Like a Teardrop and a Bullet (Dancing Girl Press), and her poems have appeared (or will) in Pool, DIAGRAM, Bombay Gin, BOAAT, Forklift, Ohio, Glass Poetry, The Journal, Sundog Lit, Tammy, and elsewhere. Rachel holds an MFA and MA from the University of Montana. She manages content and promotions for Submittable, and teaches poetry to young people.
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