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Last night I went on a moody walk

In my neighborhood

Which is mostly women sitting just out of frame

On low couches

In their apartments


I have an imaginary photo set called Women Who Are Having a Nice Time


I look and smell like Styrofoam, but I’m not


I used to photograph strangers not conceptually

But the power alarmed me


So I left the film in the vegetable bin

And acted surprised when something sogged on it


I found a new freckle in the shower

I think

My body is a glyph                a symbol

I can’t understand


Last night a car descended a long driveway

Making light on things

So I thought of you


The night presented me with parts of a sink on the sidewalk

And wet brown things and napkins dabbing at them in places


And everything was so possible


My attention on a stranger

Locking her car door


Maybe I was considering

In the feminine way

If she threatened me


Maybe thinking we could forgive each other for stuff


I think I’m turning into a butter pat


Things that happen at night


One is a dog behind an iron gate

The other is a drunk voicemail I left for you

Before I remembered you were dead


Surprise can be a tight wound huh

And the careful study

Of someone you love

Can be a sort of paranoia

Reading intention into impulse like that


I want us to use the same conditioner


I want to put my arms around you on a horse


Anyway come over

The fruit here is so small I think you’d like it


I feel like the sea receding beneath an ice cap


I have a comforter

And a Himalayan salt lamp that sweats


I walk around for garbage in the form of time

And for the romanticization of trees


I spent decades adjusting my purse in my lap

And now life blows at my face


And I bite it when I can


And actually


I want to be the horse


I think you probably had a quiet voice

Marbled with feeling

Aiden Arata is a Gemini INFP whose work has appeared in publications including Mask, BOMB, Hobart, Potluck, and Shabby Doll House. She lives in Los Angeles and on the internet at @aidenarata.

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