by Nasrin Lin
plastic city room for two / stay for the fireworks
up to you / take the downtown express I go and lie, shoelaces untied
across the fresh flowers / eucalyptus young from the plaza
tucked a letter, cursive exaggerate / someone else’s name / I toss
and think a non-thought / eucalyptus aromatherapy, antiseptics or air
freshener for this room on Avenue
of the Americas / released from the beautiful and the terrible, I wait
still / meet
me at mine / your chardonnay white
face, I smell / manicured royal blue,
soirée self-preservation I know / people like you
fully furnished / devastating I am
a placeholder, psychotropic medication something other than / loving too,
you must know I should keep the vase / and I will
shave my head and bring it to the matinee.
the croissants were shaped
like the Venus Willendorf / tasted like you.
spiteful palate, sweet Seroquel and chocolate-rich
make my fingernails hurt / I dig
into the cheesecake off-white
from the corner bodega / go home
to my poster Hopper, pointed chins to pointed drinks.