Sunday, May 01, 2005

In Las Vegas

Katy Lederer

I.
When I write a novel in Vegas, I ask myself what other people will think.
When I write a novel, I think a lot about eating.
When I call my friend, he gets very excited.
Out of my window I see a huge mountain.
Its striations make it look as if the rain has fallen sideways on it. Over the years.
I have danced a lot. I have thought to become a novelist.
I see a mountain that looks as if drenched by the rain. I see a sky
Wherein clouds drift by slowly and unendingly.
Pistons go up and down. Pendulums swing back and forth.
If a person who is in love with me reads this, they will care.
If someone who hates me reads it, they will dismiss me as an impostor.

II.
Trees are like cairns. The yard is clean. The door is opened
to let in air. I have driven great distances and listened to a lot of music.
I read things that make me jealous. Alone.
I read about people I know. All women want to be beautiful.

III.
The pool's light like moonlight.
The idea is to exercise caution and not give it up to them.
To say love and not be determined to show it then makes one a bastard.
To make proclamations as these are very pretty things to make
and to script them out and cause ugly havoc in the universe
we then must know. Over the hills there are lights.
Over the hills there are lights and this heat.
You have been the measure of all greatness.
It is pleasant of you in my mind to have been so.
You please god to love then if measuring greatness within me
found succubus to be fled, sent out, and adored.
Pray for me, I be less wholesome when trees sway.
Winds. Winds go there everywhich way.

IV.
I like the sky. And I do not do
the opposite of what the trees do.
Interesting. I love you
is like sitting on a bench and you don't
mean it when you say it.
Someone else has made you say it.