At a party I am staring
at a gigantic cardboard cutout
of Beyoncé that’s across the room,
realizing I will never be what I want
to be. I get drunk enough to forget
my aspirations and go home
unfucked and hungry, smear
my makeup and pass out to a movie
about the end of the world.
If I could bathe I totally would,
but the future is here and everything
must be destroyed. My problem
is that the only thing I’m good
at destroying is my body, a vessel
I wreck again and again like a car
in a video game programmed
to ignore the physics of death.
They say the asteroid will be here
in two weeks, so I’m making
a moonlight raid on the boy’s village.
At night they know all hips
are great — they can
take shelter under mine.about the author