Dedication

By Ben Lerner

For the distances collapsed.

  For the figure

failed to humanize

the scale. For the work,

the work did nothing but invite us

to relate it to

  the wall.

For I was a shopper in a dark

  aisle.

For the mode of address

  equal to the war

was silence, but we went on

celebrating doubleness.

For the city was polluted

with light, and the world,

  warming.

For I was a fraud

  in a field of poppies.

For the rain made little

  affective adjustments

to the architecture.

For the architecture was a long

lecture lost on me, negative

mnemonics reflecting

  weather

and reflecting

  reflecting.

For I felt nothing

  which was cool,

totally cool with me.

For my blood was cola.

For my authority was small

involuntary muscles

  in my face.

For I had had some work done

  on my face.

For I was afraid

  to turn

left at intersections.

For I was in a turning lane.

For I was signaling,

despite myself,

  the will to change.

For I could not throw my voice

  away.

For I had overslept,

  for I had dressed

in layers for the long

dream ahead, the recurring

dream of waking with

alternate endings

  she'd walk me through.

For Ariana.

  For Ari.

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