—James Woods’
character in True Crime
I’m not sure who got off the spaceship first.
Coco jumped up to the window and greeted
them, then led them to the kitchen table—
the green marble table—now with a yellow
tablecloth with a pink floral design—the
coverlet that Otto bought for the little
sitting area in my old apartment.
Aliens from another planet seem to
miss their families and their own planet’s
customs. To my left,
two and a half years of
purple inspiration which was packed away a
decade and a half ago.
It is unseasonably—
no—abnormally hot.
Me, alone, but for the
colossal cashews.
Under that is 2004, which I’m savoring. And
Lyn Hejinian with a fruit basket of apples (a
rotten pear to the left of my laptop).
And O’s orchid, always on its
last leg. I draw the
unmasked fan
ever nearer, jerking until the
plug pops loose.
