“I think. (go away). Cupcake,” – Assorted neighbor catchphrases, Animal Crossing: Wild World
Finish everything by eleven forty-five
woke at ten twenty, I hit the money rock
until I finance redecorating my second living room
in Christmas in July mixed green garlands
designed by Ellen DeGeneres.
Must be safe to assume: nobody’s
mother is still alive,
museums downtown exhibiting
sabretooth torsos from my crawlspace.
Am I masturbating
into something stranger or less
strange than everyone else?
Don’t talk to anyone, but still get flirty
mail like: “You and Paris are two
of my favorite things,”
jotted on a copy of A Moveable Feast.
Tonight I’m in an apartment complex’s
fitness center restroom
PandaGLO is a cam model
too cosmopolitan to show her pussy
two hours in, puts a finger inside the third hour,
starts fisting in the last hour.
In the last hour a store exclusively selling
my handcrafted swimwear opens a block away,
my house close enough to hear my maid
knocking, my maid letting herself inside,
my maid locking herself inside.
James Ardis is an MFA candidate in poetry at Ole Miss. Poems from his video-game inspired project “Damage Values” have found a home with Blinders and decomP. You can contact him here.