Author: K Kalashnikova

China

Our great dream of China, or of Chinatown,
and to finally leave, to go to one or the other.

My great dream of China:
pools of carp and urns filled with gold fish while
in shopping malls built to extort money
from rich white people like myself.

Imagining you
in those places that you know or knew that I once knew
but have now forgotten.

The relationship that never existed or
always existed and was erased.

Where has the wide-eyed sincerity of asking
“How was your day?” and meaning it gone?

Hand-in-hand in China, or in Chinatown,
worshiping one another—
no, worshiping you,
always worshiping you.

Fumbling

Attention from fumbling teenage boys
makes me wet
but that was yesterday.

I am looking at photos taken
three, maybe four months,
maybe one year ago
of high school clubs and
porn stars on yachts.

I saw her pussy
at a party at the Ritz.

She spread her legs and told me stories about the fungi
in between her thighs
and showed me scars
and said to me, not looking at me,
“Aren’t we all just waiting for a text message?”

Fumbling New Hampshire engineer, looking at his phone,
not at me, took me to a room on the eighth floor
without a word.

He didn’t tell any stories,
he just said: There’s reds
there’s blues
there’s greens
and there’s everything in between.

I took a picture, on my phone,
of the view.

He didn’t fumble at all, actually.
He lied in bed with me
and when he finally spoke
he told me about his fiancé and how
he planned to take her to the south of France.

Station Wagon

For two years to dream of your station wagon in the rain
and then the moment
the invitation to sit in that station wagon,
an old tumbler of vodka soda, flat, and American Spirits half-empty
a used copy of the broom of the system
and to tell the story two days later:
“We sat inside his station wagon.”
So for two years I dream of this moment,
a station wagon in the rain.
There is the absence of conversation because
all other conversations have been had.
The next day we have no conversation at all because
the station wagon was the last thing we had left.
The end game.
Two years later to think about the station wagon,
it raining, a used copy of a book neither of us have or will read but will
tell our friends we battled through, the question of
why a tumbler in your car,
why the rain,
why this two year battle at all
to just sit in a station wagon.

Demographic Crisis

Japan is having a demographic crisis,
The Himalayas are melting,
The Ganges will overflow and
there is enough destruction
to knock flowers from a vase.